Kiara Pride-Lander: Book 6
by Kimberly Joan Amethyst
Summary: The sixth book in my Kiara Pride-Lander series. All the main old characters, and some new faces, are there. DISCLAIMER: I own nothing apart from my own characters. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Kiara Pride-Lander**

 **and the Half-Blood Princess**

 **By K.J. Amethyst**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Talbot Street**

 **KIARA**

Hello, my dear readers. We are now journeying into the sixth year in my story. This year will be a bit lighter than the last, for Chrissie gets in a relationship this year (which no one is really happy about), but unfortunately ends in disaster, and you will see what happens between Chris and I. But this year is not all fun and games, oh no, for we learn more about Zira's past and ... something horrible happens at the end of this year ... something that affects one of my best friends in a way I never expected ...

But, more on that later. Right now, all you need to know is that there is a chill in the air which is caused by the Stingers because of their breeding, and a couple of people are to visit Triphorm in this chapter. And I shall being seeing you in chapter three.

0000

All across the country, a chilly mist had settled itself, feeding its dark and dampened despair into every mind, young and old, rich and poor. It seeped into every city and town, and hung over every roof like a great dark cloud of despair. It drifted over a quiet street where nothing much was heard in the dead of night, apart from a few rushing cars and the lonely footsteps of someone walking home, and a cat padding its way down the street.

But then, with a very faint _pop_ , a slim hooded figure appeared out of thin air on the pavement. The cat dashed underneath a car and froze, its eyes fixed upon this strange new phenomenon. The figure seemed to take its bearings for a few moments, then set off with light, quick strides, its long cloak rustling with every step it took.

With a second and louder _pop_ , another hooded figure materialised.

"Wait!"

The harsh cry startled the cat, whose eyes glinted feebly in the light from a lamppost. It leapt from its hiding place and up the street. There was a flash of green light, a cry, and the cat fell back to the ground, dead.

The second figure turned over the animal with its toe.

"Just a cat," said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. "I thought perhaps an Auror - Latchy, wait!"

But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at the flash of light, was already scrambling up the road.

"Latchy - Latchna - listen to me - "

The second person, the woman, caught up with the first, a man, and seized his arm, but the other wrenched it away.

"Go back, Katie!"

"You must listen to me!"

"I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!"

The man called Latchna gained the top of the road, which was split at a T-junction. The woman, Katie, followed him. Side by side they stood looking right, on to a different street, where lines of mixed houses and flats stood on either side, their windows blind in the darkness.

"She lives here?" asked Katie in a voice of contempt. " _Here?_ In this Muggle dungheap? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot - "

But Latchna was not listening; he was marching down the street, his feet set and determined.

"Latchy, _wait_!"

Katie followed, her cloak streaming behind, and saw Latchna marching not that far ahead of her. The streetlamps shone brightly in the pending darkness. The pursuer caught up with her prey just before the pavement ended, this time succeeding in catching hold of his arm and swinging him around so that they faced each other.

"Latchy, you must not do this, toy can't trust her - "

"The Scarlet Lady trusts her, doesn't she?"

"The Scarlet Lady is ... I believe ... mistaken," Katie panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. "In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Scarlet Lady's - "

"Let go, Katie!" snarled Latchna and he drew a wand from beneath his cloak, holding it threateningly in the other's face. Katie merely laughed.

"Latchy, your own sister? You wouldn't - "

"There is nothing I wouldn't do any more!" Latchna breathed, a note of hysteria in his voice, and as he brought down the wand like a knife, there was another flash of light. Katie let go of her brother's arm as though burned.

 _"Latchna!"_

But Latchna had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, his pursuer followed again, keeping her distance now, as they moved even deeper into the deserted street of mixed houses and flats. At last, Latchna turned right into the driveway of number fifteen, Talbot Street, but instead of walking straight up the front steps, he walked down a narrow walkway down the right side of the house, which led to the basement flats. He pulled back the gate and walked into a garden that was overgrown with weeds and walked right to the end flat, where a light shone through the curtains.

He had knocked on the large window pane sealed into the door before Katie, cursing under her breath, had caught up. After a few seconds, they saw a woman with long strawberry-blonde hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and icy-blue eyes.

Latchna threw back his hood. He was so pale that he seemed to shine in the darkness; the long blond hair streaming down his back gave him the look of a drowned person.

"Latchna!" said the woman, once she had opened the door a bit, so that the light from the kitchen shone upon him and his sister too. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Tiana," he said in a strained whisper. "May I speak to you? It's urgent."

"But of course."

She stood back to allow him into her flat. His still-hooded sister followed him without invitation.

"Triphorm," she said curtly as she passed her.

"Katalina," she replied, her thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking smile as she closed the door with a snap behind them.

They walked up the short hallway, past the stairs on her right which led up to a bedroom and bathroom, and through the door that stood directly opposite the stairs. Through it was a long kitchen and lounge area, that was separated by an archway. In the kitchen a small table stood beside the window; a long bench area stood opposite an alcove where a chimney would be, which had a cupboard on top of it at the place where the archway was; behind it was a sink with a couple of cupboards hanging over it, a washing machine next to the sink and cooker in the corner. In the lounge was a Muggle light that was quite dim, seeing as there was no window. The walls were completely covered in books, most of them bound in old black leather; a threadbare sofa, an old armchair and a rickety table stood spaced a little apart: the sofa stood against the long wall, the armchair stood a little away from it and the table stood in the middle of the room. The place had an air of neglect, as though it were not usually inhabited, which was made more aware by the fact that there was a leak in the corner of the room where the archway was, which Katalina looked at in disgust and gave the corner a wide berth.

Triphorm gestured Latchna to the sofa. He threw off his cloak, cast it aside and sat down, staring at his white trembling hands clasped in his lap. Katalina lowered her hand more slowly. Dark as her brother was fair, with heavily lidded eyes and a strong jaw, she did not take her gaze from Triphorm as she moved to stand behind Latchna.

"So, what can I do for you?" Triphorm asked, settling herself in the armchair opposite the brother and sister.

"We ... we are alone, aren't we?" Latchna asked quietly.

"Yes, of course. Well, Wormy's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?"

She stood up, went over to the table and picked up a little bell, which rang loudly. A few seconds later, low footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and a man came around the door.

"As you have clearly realised, Wormy, we have guests," said Triphorm lazily.

The man crept hunchbacked further into the kitchen. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it were encased in a bright silver glove.

"Latchna!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Katalina! How charming - "

"Wormy will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Triphorm. "And then he will return to his bedroom."

Wormy winced as though Triphorm had thrown something at him.

"I am not your servant!" squeaked wormy, acoiding Triphorm's eye.

"To assist, yes - but not to make you drinks and - and clean your flat!"

"I had no idea, Wormy, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Triphorm silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Scarlet Lady - "

"I can speak to her myself if I want to!"

"Of course you can," said Triphorm, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Wormy hesitated for a moment, looking as though he might argue, but then turned towards the bench, where he pulled a tray and a dusty bottle forwards. He set the tray upright and put the bottle on it; he then went to the cupboard on the bench, opened it and pulled out three glasses, which he placed on the tray. He then carried the tray into the lounge, placed it on the rickety table and then scurried back up the kitchen, through the door to the stairs, shutting the door closed behind him.

Triphorm poured out three glasses of blood-red wine and handed two of them to the brother and sister. Latchna murmured a word of thanks, whilst Katalina said nothing, but continued to glower at Triphorm. This did not seem to discompose her; on the contrary, she looked rather amused.

"The Scarlet Lady," she said, raising her glass and draining it.

Both brother and sister copied her. Triphorm refilled their glasses.

As Latchna took his second drink he said in a rush, "Tiana, I am sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me - "

Triphorm held up a hand to stop him, then stood, moved slowly to the kitchen door and pointed her wand at it. There was a loud bang and a squeal, followed by the sound of Wormy scurrying back up the stairs.

"My apologies," said Triphorm, once she had sat down in her armchair again. "He has lately taken to listening at doors, I don't know what he means by it ... you were saying, Latchna?"

He took a great, shuddering breath and started again.

"Tiana, I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but - "

"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" snarled Katalina. "Particularly in present company!"

" "Present company"?" repeated Triphorm sardonically. "And what am I to understand by that, Katalina?"

"That I don't trust you, Triphorm, as you very well know!"

Latchna let out a noise that might have been a low moan and covered his face with his hands. Triphorm set her glass down upon the table and sat back again, her hands upon the arms of her chair, smiling into Katalina's glowering face.

"Latchna, I think we ought to hear what Katalina is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, Katalina," said Triphorm. "Why is it that you do not trust me?"

"A hundred reasons!" she said loudly, striding from beside her brother to slam her glass upon the table. "Where to start! Where were you when the Scarlet Lady fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find her when she vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in Crighton's pocket? Why did you stop the Scarlet Lady procuring the Mirror of Wishes? Why did you not return at once when the Scarlet Lady was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Scarlet Lady? And why, Triphorm, is Kiara Pride-Lander still alive, when you have had her at your mercy for five years?"

She paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the colour high in her cheeks. Behind her Latchna sat motionless, his face still hidden in his hands.

Triphorm smiled.

"Before I answer you - oh, yes, Katalina, I am going to answer! You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of my treachery to the Scarlet Lady! Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you think that the Scarlet Lady has asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?"

She hesitated.

"I know she believes you, but - "

"You think she is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked her? Fooled the Scarlet Lady, the greatest witch, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?"

Katalina said nothing, but looked, for the first time, a little discomfited. Triphorm did not press the point. She picked up her drink again, sipped it, and continued, "You ask where I was when the Scarlet Lady fell. I was where she had ordered me to be, at Dragon Mort Magical Academy, because she wished me to spy upon Susan Crighton. You know, I presume, that it was on the Scarlet Lady's orders that I took up the post?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly and then opened her mouth, but Triphorm forestalled her.

"You ask why I did not attempt to find her when she vanished. For the same reason that Aakster, Yap, the Capellos, Silverfur, Narissa," she inclined her head slightly to Latchna, "and many others did not attempt to find her. I believed her finished. I am not proud of it, I was wrong, but there it is ... if she had not forgiven we who had lost faith at that time, she would have very few followers left."

"She'd have me!" said Katalina passionately. "I, who spent many years in Azkaban for her!"

"Yes, indeed, most admirable," said Triphorm in a bored voice. "Of course, you weren't a lot of use to her in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine - "

"Gesture!" she shrieked; in her fury she looked slightly mad. "While I endured the Stingers, you remained at Dragon Mort, comfortably paying Crighton's pet!"

"Not quite," said Triphorm calmly. "She wouldn't give me the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, you know. Seemed to think it might, ah, being about a relapse ... tempt me into my old ways."

"This was your sacrifice for the Scarlet Lady, not to teach your favourite subject?" she jeered. "Why did you stay there all that time, Triphorm? Still spying on Crighton for a mistress you believed dead?"

"Hardly," said Triphorm, "although the Scarlet Lady is pleased that I never deserted my post: I had sixteen years of information on Crighton to give her when she returned, a rather more useful welcome-back present than endless reminiscences of how unpleasant Azkaban is ..."

"But you stayed - "

"Yes, Katalina, I stayed," said Triphorm, betraying a hint of impatience for the first time. "I had a comfortable job that I preferred to a stint in Azkaban. They were rounding up the Love Destroyers, you know. Crighton's protection kept me out of jail, it was most convenient and I used it. I repeat: the Scarlet Lady does not complain that I stayed, so I do not see why you do.

"I think you next wanted to know," she pressed on, a little more loudly, for Katalina showed every sign of interrupting, "why I stood between the Scarlet Lady and the Mirror of Wishes. That is easily answered. She did not know whether she could trust me. She, like you, thought that I turned from faithful Love Destroyer to Crighton's stooge. She was in a pitiable condition, very weak, sharing the body of a mediocre witch. She did not dare reveal herself to a former ally if that ally might turn her over to Crighton or the Ministry. I deeply regret that she did not trust me. She would have returned to power three years sooner. As it was, I saw only greedy and unworthy Quarrell attempting to steal the Mirror and, I admit, I did all I could to thwart her."

Katalina's mouth twisted as though she had taken an unpleasant dose of medicine.

"But you didn't return when she came back, you didn't fly back to her once you felt the Death Trail burn - "

"Correct. I returned two hours later. I returned on Crighton's orders."

"On Crighton's - ?" she began, in tones of outrage.

"Think!" said Triphorm, impatient again. "Think! By waiting two hours, just two hours, I ensured that I could remain at Dragon Mort as a spy! By allowing Crighton to think that I was only returning to the Scarlet Lady's side because I was ordered to, I have been able to pass information on Crighton and the Order of the Centaur ever since! Consider, Katalina: the Death Trail had been growing stronger for months, I knew she must be about to return, all the Love Destroyers knew! I had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to do, to plan my next move, to escape like Kula, didn't I?

"The Scarlet Lady's initial displeasure at my lateness vanished entirely, I assure you, when I explained that I remained faithful, although Crighton thought I was her woman. Yes, the Scarlet Lady thought that I had left her for ever, but she was wrong."

"But what use have you been?" sneered Katalina. "What useful information have we had from you?"

"My information has always been conveyed directly to the Scarlet Lady," said Triphorm. "If she chooses not to share it with you - "

"She shares everything with me!" said Katalina, firing up at once. "She calls me her most loyal, her most faithful - "

"Does she?" said Triphorm, her voice delicately inflected to suggest her disbelief. "Does she _still_ , after the fiasco at the Ministry?"

"That was not my fault!" said Katalina, flushing. "The Scarlet Lady has, in the past, entrusted me with her most precious - if Narissa hadn't - "

"Don't you dare - don't you _dare_ blame my wife!" said Latchna, in a fierce voice, looking up at his sister.

"There is no point appointing blame," said Triphorm smoothly. "What is done is done."

"But not by you!" said Katalina furiously. "No, you were once again absent while the rest of us ran dangers, were you not, Triphorm?"

"My orders were to remain behind," said Triphorm. "Perhaps you disagree with the Scarlet Lady, perhaps you think that Crighton would not have noticed if I had joined forces with the Love Destroyers to fight the Order of the Centaur? And - forgive me - you speak of dangers ... you were facing eight teenagers, were you not?"

"They were joined, as you very well know, by half the Order before long!" snarled Katalina. "And, while we are on the subject of the Order, you still claim you cannot reveal the whereabouts of their Headquarters, don't you?"

"I am not the Secret Keeper, I cannot speak the name of the place. You understand how the enchantment works, I think? The Scarlet Lady is satisfied with the information I have passed her on the Order. It led, as perhaps you have guessed, to the recent capture and arrest of Emmett Vaughn, and it certainly helped dispose of Pumbaa Warts, though I give you full credit for finishing him off."

She inclined her head and toasted her. Her expression did not soften.

"You are avoiding my last question, Triphorm. Kiara Pride-Lander. You could have killed her at any point in the past five years. You have not done it. Why?"

"Have you discussed this matter with the Scarlet Lady?" asked Triphorm.

"She ... lately, we ... I am asking _you_ , Triphorm!"

"If I had murdered Kiara Pride-Lander, the Scarlet Lady could not have used her blood to regenerate, making her invincible - "

"You claim you foresaw her use of the girl!" she jeered.

"I do not claim it; I had no idea of her plans; I have already confessed that I thought the Scarlet Lady dead. I am merely trying to explain why the Scarlet Lady is not sorry that Pride-Lander survived, at least until a year ago ..."

"But why did you keep her alive?"

"Have you not understood me? It was only Crighton's protection that was keeping me out of Azkaban! Do you disagree that murdering one of her favourite students might have turned her against me? But there was more to it than that. I should remind you that when Pride-Lander arrived at Dragon Mort there were still many stories circulating about her, rumours that she herself was a great Dark witch, which was how she had survived the Scarlet Lady's attack. Indeed, many of the Scarlet Lady's old followers thought Pride-Lander might be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all intended to murder her the moment she set foot in the castle.

"Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that she had not extraordinary talent at all. She has fought her way out of a number of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. She is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as her mother before her. I have done my utmost to have her thrown out of Dragon Mort, where I believe she scarcely belongs, but kill her, or allow her to be killed in front of me? I would have been a fool to risk it, with Crighton close at hand."

"And through all this we are supposed to believe that Crighton has never suspected you?" asked Katalina. "She has no idea of your true allegiance, she trusts you implicitly still?"

"I have played my part well," said Triphorm. "And you overlook Crighton's greatest weakness: she has to believe the best of people. I spun her a tale of deepest remorse when I joined her staff, fresh from my Love Destroyer days, and she embraced me with open arms - though, as I say, never allowing me nearer the Dark Arts than she could help. Crighton has been a great witch - oh, yes, she has" (for Katalina had made a scathing noise) "the Scarlet Lady acknowledged it. I am pleased to say, however, that Crighton is growing old. The duel with the Scarlet Lady last month shook her. She has since sustained a serious injury because her reactions are slower than they once were. But through all theses years, she has never stopped trusting Tiana Triphorm, and therein lies my great value to the Scarlet Lady."

Katalina still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to attack Triphorm next. Taking advantage of her silence, Triphorm turned to her brother.

"Now ... you came to ask me for help, Latchna?"

Latchna looked up at her, his face eloquent with despair.

"Yes, Tiana. I - I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Narissa is in jail and ..."

He closed his eyes and let out a moan of agony.

"The Scarlet Lady has forbidden me to speak of it," Latchna continued, his eyes still closed. "She wishes none to know of the plan. It is ... very secret. But - "

"If she has forbidden it, you ought not to speak," said Triphorm at once. "The Scarlet Lady's word is law."

Latchna gasped as though she had just doused him with cold water. Katalina looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the flat.

"There!" she said triumphantly, to her brother. "Even Triphorm says so: you were told not to talk, so hold your silence!"

But Triphorm had got to her feet and strode over to the kitchen window, peered through the blinds at the deserted garden, then drew back from them. She turned and walked towards Latchna, frowning.

"It so happens that I know of the plan," she said in a low voice, once she had reached Latchna. "I am one of the few the Scarlet Lady has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Latchna, you would not have been guilty of great treachery to the Scarlet Lady."

"I thought you must know about it!" said Latchna, breathing more freely. "She trusts you so, Tiana ..."

"You know about the plan?" said Katalina, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. " _You_ know?"

"Certainly," said Triphorm. "But what help do you require, Latchna? If you are imagining I can persuade the Scarlet Lady to change her mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all."

"Tiana," he whispered, tears sliding down his pale cheeks. "My daughter ... my only daughter ..."

"Dani should be proud," said Katalina indifferently. "The Scarlet Lady is granting her a great honour. And I will say this for Dani: she isn't shrinking away from her duty, she seems glad of a chance to prove herself, excited at the prospect - "

Latchna began crying in earnest, gazing beseechingly all the while at Triphorm.

"That's because she is sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why, Tiana? Why my daughter? It is too dangerous! This is vengeance for Narissa's mistake, I know it!"

Triphorm said nothing. She looked away from the sight of his tears as though they were indecent, but she could not pretend to hear him.

"That's why she's chosen Dani, isn't it?" he persisted. "To punish Narissa?"

"If Dani succeeds," said Triphorm, still looking away from him, "she will be honoured above all others."

"But she won't succeed!" sobbed Latchna. "How can she, when the Scarlet Lady herself - ?"

Katalina gasped; Latchna seemed to lose his nerve.

"I only meant ... that nobody has succeeded ... Tiana ... please ... you are, you have always been, Dani's favourite teacher ... you are Nerissa's old friend ... I beg you ... you are the Scarlet Lady's favourite, her most trusted advisor ... will you speak to her persuade her - ?"

"The Scarlet Lady will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to attempt it," said Triphorm flatly. "I cannot pretend that the Scarlet Lady is not angry with Nerissa. Nerissa was supposed to be in charge. She got herself captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, the Scarlet Lady is angry, Latchna, very angry indeed."

"Then I am right, she has chosen Dani in revenge!" choked Latchna. "She does not mean her to succeed, she wants her to be killed trying!"

When Triphorm said nothing, Latchna seemed to lose what little self-restraint he still possessed. Standing up, he staggered to Triphorm and seized the front of her robes. His face close to hers, his tears falling on to her face, he gasped, "You could do it. _You_ could do it instead of Dani, Tiana. You would succeed, of course she would, and she would reward you beyond all of us - "

Triphorm caught hold of his wrists and removed his clutching hands. Looking up into his tear-stained face, she said slowly, "She intends me to do it in the end, I think. But she is determined that Dani should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Dani succeeds, I shall be able to remain at Dragon Mort a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy."

"In other words, it doesn't matter if Dani is killed!"

"The Scarlet Lady is very angry," repeated Triphorm quietly. "She failed to hear the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Latchna, that she does not forgive easily."

He crumpled, falling at her feet, sobbing and moaning on the floor.

"My only daughter ... my only daughter ..."

"You should be proud!" said Katalina ruthlessly. "If I had daughters, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Scarlet Lady!"

Latchna gave a little scream of despair and clutched at his long blond hair. Triphorm stooped, seized him by the arms, lifted him up and steered him back on to the sofa. She then poured him more wine and forced the glass into his hand.

"Latchna, that's enough. Drink this. Listen to me."

He quietened a little; slopping wine down himself, he took a shaky sip.

"It might be possible ... for me to help Dani."

He sat up, his face paper-white, his eyes huge.

"Tiana - oh, Tiana - you would help her? Would you look after her, see she comes to no harm?"

"I can try."

He flung his glass; it skidded across the table as he slid off the sofa into a kneeling position at Triphorm's feet, seized her hand in both of his and pressed his lips to it.

"If you are to protect her ... Tiana, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"The Unbreakable Vow?" Triphorm's expression was blank, unreadable: Katalina, however, let out a cackle of triumphant laughter.

"Aren't you listening, Latchna? Oh, she'll _try_ , I'm sure ... the usual empty words, the usual slithering out of action ... oh, on the Scarlet Lady's orders, of course!"

Triphorm did not look at Katalina. Her icy-blue eyes were fixed upon Latchna's tear-filled blue ones as he continued to clutch her hand.

"Certainly, Latchna, I will make the Unbreakable Vow," she said quietly. "Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder."

Katalina's mouth fell open. Triphorm lowered herself so that she was kneeling opposite Latchna. Beneath Katalina's astonished gaze, they grasped right hands.

"You will need your wand, Katalina," said Triphorm coldly.

She drew it, still looking astonished.

"And you will need to move a little closer," she said.

Katalina stepped forwards so that she stood over them, and placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands.

Latchna spoke.

"Will you, Tiana, watch over my daughter Dani as she attempts to fulfil the Scarlet Lady's wishes?"

"I will," said Triphorm.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect her from harm?"

"I will," said Triphorm.

A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

"And, should it prove necessary ... if it seems Dani will fail ..." whispered Latchna (Triphorm's hand twitched within his, but she did not draw away), "will you carry out the deed that the Scarlet Lady has ordered Dani to perform?"

There was a moment's silence. Katalina watched, her wand upon their clasped hands, her eyes wide.

"I will," said Triphorm.

Katalina's astounded face glowed red in the blaze as a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others and bound itself around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.

 **AN: Hello, me again. This is the first chapter in the sixth book. I am going to be posting once a week because I want to spend as much time on the seventh book as possible. As in the last book, all negative criticism WILL BE IGNORED! I hope you enjoy the story. The next chapter will be posted next Wednesday. See you then.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **The Girl Who Saves the World**

 **ATHENA AMETHYST PHOENIXCLAW**

She was there. She was where she was meant to be when someone was in trouble; but now she was on top of a rooftop in Brickabon Alley, hiding stealthily in the shadows, her eyes fixed on Madam Wandwick's wand shop, her long knife, the hilt of which was made from cedar wood and had a large amethyst in the middle held tightly in her hand, waiting ... waiting ...

She had been suspicious about the Love Destroyers attacking here ever since she got a tip-off from a friend of hers a few days ago, and since then she would grab a fast helicopter that would take her from America to Southport, where she stood in Brickabon Alley alone, where she would sit and watch for twelve hours straight, and every day she left, feeling disappointed, but something about this day felt different. Athena could feel it. She was a one-woman army, who stood alone - always - in times like these. She needed no one to have her back, for she could fight as well as ten men ever could -

Movement caught her eye below; red-hooded figures were flying in and were surrounding the wand shop, sending the people around it panicking and scrambling for cover. Athena tightened her grip on the knife, and as one red-hooded figure stepped forward with their wand pointed at the door, Athena knew it was time. She threw the knife, which spun through the air, and landed loudly in the middle of the group of red-hooded figures, who all darted away from the knife, alarmed.

"What the - ?" growled the figure whose wand was pointing at the door, glancing around wildly. Then he saw the knife and, glaring up at the place where he thought Athena would be, growled, _"Athena Amethyst Phoenixclaw!"_

Athena narrowed her eyes and the left side of her mouth was raised in a smirk.

 _Showtime!_

She jumped off the roof, curled into a ball and unfurled herself just before she landed, with her legs split apart, her left hand touching the floor and her right hand behind her back. She stood up quickly, revealing herself to the red-hooded figures.

She wore black combo boots, long black leggings that clung tightly to her legs and a purple T-shirt. Black gloves covered her hands. She was fair skinned, had freckles, long ginger hair that flowed down her back and had aqua-blue eyes. She was an impressive figure, and someone who was not to be messed with.

This was Athena Amethyst Phoenixclaw: The Girl Who Saves the World.

"Someone call?" she said sleekly, her smirk growing wider.

"Get her!" growled the red-hooded figures' leader, and they all raised their wands at her, which is exactly what Athena had been waiting for.

She leapt into action immediately: her mind seemed to calculate where the spells were going to be coming from before they hit her, which enabled Athena to dodge them quickly. Her body bended and flexed in ways no one had ever seen before; her body moved so fast that it looked like she was on a live wire, and so quickly that none of them knew what she was going to do next, or where she was going to move to -

BAM! Her first strike. Her fist hit one of the red-hooded figures' noses, before she kicked him hard in the gut, which sent him flying backwards. Athena didn't look where he went; she was too focused on her next victim. Her arms and legs were her wand, and her hands and feet her spells, which acted as effectively as any curse, hex or jinx the red ones threw at her. The more times they got up, the harder she struck back, that determined was she to stop them - and not once did she get hit with any spells.

As the red ones lay on the ground, groaning and moaning, Athena turned to their leader, who was glaring at her as she looked at him smugly. Growling, he removed his hood. Athena's smug look quickly turned into shock when she saw who she was dealing with, who smiled with pleasure at her surprise, which Athena covered quickly, and before his wand was raised, she charged at him, striking him hard in the face with her right fist, which he quickly recovered from.

Their fight was ruthless; as each spell he aimed missed her, and every aim Athena made with her hands and feet succeeded, he became angrier; the highest moment was when Athena broke his nose and he stumbled backwards, his nose drawling blood. No one had ever made this werewolf draw blood before; he threw his wand aside and charged at her; Athena tried to defend herself, but the werewolf trapped her, her back to his front, his nose sniffing her neck greedily.

"Ah," he breathed in ecstasy. "I do love the smell of rushing blood ... I bet you taste delicious ..."

Something snapped in Athena then. She was not a werewolf's chew toy; she was a human being, and therefore she had the right to choose how she lived her life; so before the werewolf dared to bite her, she whispered viciously in his ear, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that ... because I have no intention of dying today!" And with that, she elbowed him in the face and, with his head thrown back, she ducked under the arm that was around her neck and, still holding it, she kicked him in the gut, then the chin, before she flung him over her shoulder and away from her - using only one hand.

The werewolf rose from the floor, panting and grumbling, like the others around him. Watching him get up, Athena knew that he knew that she had won, as had the others she had thrown to the ground. The red ones walked slowly past her, some of them nursing bruised ribs, others limping, and as the werewolf passed her he stopped behind her and hissed, "We will be back, Phoenixclaw ... and when we return ... it will be at a time when you are not her to stop us ... or save anyone worth saving ..."

He turned away. Athena whispered to his back, so low that he did not hear her, "You think that will stop me? _Me?_ Athena Amethyst Phoenixclaw? The Girl Who Saves the World? No. I'll be back. I'll be back before you know I'll be here ... because I _always_ know where people like you go to cause havoc. Whether it be day or night, I'll be here, defending these people. Just you watch."

And before anyone could come forward to speak to her, Athena picked up her knife, and summoned her helicopter beam to beam her up. Once there, she was informed of her next mission.

"The world never rests, and neither does its saviour," said Athena, looking out at the glorious world below her, the world she had sworn to protect ...

 **SIAN**

Sian was sat at her computer by the front door at Dawson Manor. She wasn't really doing anything, she was just consumed in her thoughts, for a lot had happened since Sian had left school: the Love Destroyers were out in the open, and had recently destroyed the Millennium Bridge; the Evil Scary Lady (as Sian liked to call Zira in her head) had been "spotted" left, right and centre, and had made the giants tear through the West Country (although the Muggles didn't know that, they thought it was just a hurricane); and Keziah Rea-Bradley had moved in with the Dawsons, after her aunt had declared that she wanted nothing more to do with her, and the Dawsons had been nothing more than good and gracious hosts to Keziah, welcoming her with open arms and allowing her a room above their siblings' rooms floor, rather than a guest room, and she wasn't the only one the Dawsons had welcomed greatly.

Simba and Nala Pride-Lander had arrived that Monday, and they were good to have around; not only did they help around the house (along with Keziah, who, after living being served on hand and foot for most of her life, had had decided to be more helpful, especially with the cooking and the laundry), but they also told interesting - and entertaining - stories of their time at school, and Sian greatly needed that distraction, for even though she was calm and collected on the outside, on the inside she was all over the place.

About a week ago, Sian had been called to the school late one night by Triphorm of all people. She went there, and found that her mother was ill - _very_ ill. And the most distressing thing about it was how long her mother had, for it was not long at all. Even worse than that was the fact that not only did Sian know who had to do it to her mother, but also the fact that she was sworn to secrecy from telling anyone. Sian knew that the reason for this was because her mother did not want anyone to worry, but Sian did not see why her mother would not tell her father. She and her mother had argued about this point once Triphorm had left, and in the end they had come to a compromise: Crighton would tell her husband about it, but keep the person who was to do it to her.

Naturally, Mr Dawson was angry and upset, but once he had calmed down he swore that he would do what he could to help. This secret made the bond between father and daughter grow stronger. It drew them closer together. They comforted each other when they had a moment to spare - for Mr Dawson was head of a new department the Ministry had made in light of recent events which, as you can imagine, kept him on his toes, and Sian, well -

 _No_ , Sian told herself sternly, _I am not going there now_.

It was late on a Friday night. Todd was sat with Simba and Nala in the kitchen, but Sian wanted to be alone. Sian had to stay up late most nights anyway, for her father's home times were unpredictable, but this night was different, for her mother had gone to collect Kiara from her grandmothers to help her with something. She didn't say what it was, but Sian knew from her mother's tone that it was important. When Sian requested that she would go with her mother to help her, her mother firmly stated that it was something that only Kiara could help her with, and that she should stay there. Sian was slightly disappointed that she couldn't go with her mother, but she knew better than to mess with her mother's tone. So there she was, sat all alone, with no one but her thoughts for company, waiting for her mother to come home ...

 **AN: OK, so do you all remember in my last book that I mentioned Athena Amethyst Phoenixclaw? Well, this is her. If any of you have forgotten, please go back and read it; it's when Kiara goes to the Ministry for the first time for her hearing. I also added Sian at the end because it's important for us to know what's going on inside her head, which will be important for later chapters, so don't worry if you don't understand most of what happened here for now, it will be explained later. Sorry for the short chapter, but the next one will be longer, I assure you. The next chapter will be posted next Wednesday. See you then.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **Crighton Comes**

 **KIARA**

Hello! I told you I would be back in this chapter. The Unbreakable Vow thing I didn't know about until later on that year, the Girl Who Saves the World and the thing about Sian and her mother I did not know about until my seventh year, so hang on tight.

Anyway, where was I at this point? Well, I was at my grandmothers' cottage in my room, snoring loudly. I had been lying in bed for the best part of four hours, watching the television, every so often staring out the window at the darkening lawn below, until I had finally fallen asleep, flat on my back with my mouth wide open.

The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores and sweet wrappers littered the floor; a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes that lay near my bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on my desk. The headline of one blared:

 _KIARA PRIDE-LANDER: THE CHOSEN ONE?_

 _Rumours continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which She Who Must Not Be Named was sighted once more._

 _"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give her name as she left the Ministry last night._

 _Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centred on the Hall of Prophecy._

 _Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the wizarding community believe that the Love Destroyers now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Kiara Pride-Lander, the second person ever to have known to survive the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going as far as to call Pride-Lander the "Chosen One", believing that the prophecy names her as the only one who will be able to rid us of She Who Must Not Be Named._

 _The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (cont. page 2, column 5)_

A second newspaper lay beside the first. This one bore the headline:

 _SCRIMWAZZ SUCCEEDS SWEETS_

Most of the front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a woman with a mane of wild, thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture was moving - the woman was waving at the ceiling.

 _Rowena Scrimwazz, previously Junior Head of the Auror Office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelia Sweets as Minister for Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the wizarding community, though some had hoped that Mr Harry Potter, 38, Head of the Auror Office, would have accepted the post, but our new Minister told us that he graciously declined the offer, saying that he is happier where he is and has no wish to run our country, furthermore adding that there are people out there who would run the country much better than he would._

 _There are also rumours of a rift between the new Minister and Susan Crighton, newly reinstated Headmistress of Dragon Mort Magical Academy, surfaced within hours of Scrimwazz taking office._

 _Scrimwazz's representatives admitted that she had met with Crighton at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Susan Crighton is known to (cont. page 3, column 2)_

To the left of this paper sat another, which had been folded so that a story bearing the title _MINSTRY GUARANTEES STUDENTS' SAFETY_ was visible.

 _Newly appointed Minister for Magic, Rowena Scrimwazz, spoke today of the tough new measures taken by her Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Dragon Mort Magical Academy this autumn._

 _"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a complex array of counter-curses and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of Dragon Mort school._

 _Most seemed reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student safety. Said Mr Augustus Goldberg, "My granddaughter, Nikita Bore - a good friend of Kiara Pride-Lander's, incidentally, who fought the Love Destroyers alongside her at the Ministry in June and - "_

But the rest of this story was obscured by the large birdcage standing on top of it. Inside it was a magnificent snowy owl. His amber eyes surveyed the room imperviously, his head swivelling occasionally to gaze at my snoring self. Once or twice, he clicked his beak impatiently, but I was too deeply asleep to hear him.

Next to Harold's cage was another story with a picture of a man and a woman waving at the ceiling, beneath the headline that read: _THE PRIDE-LANDERS: FREE AND INNOCENT_.

 _For years, we believed that Mr and Mrs Simba and Nala Pride-Lander were guilty of fourteen murders. But in the light of recent events, it appears that the Ministry was mistaken._

 _"We, unfortunately, got the wrong people," said one spokeswizard nervously. "The Pride-Landers have told us that it was not them, but Alice and Alan Abster, whom everyone has believed dead."_

 _The spokeswizard also told us that after they had questioned the Pride-Landers further that they discovered their information was correct, and not long after Simba and Nala were given an official pardon and released. The Minister had this to say:_

 _"We offer our most sincerest apologies to Simba and Nala, and we hope that in time they will forgive us for our mistake. We are also making progress to find the Absters and bring them into justice the moment we find them."_

 _The Pride-Landers had nothing to say to us, but we do know that they will be (cont. page 4, column 7)_

We'll get to my parents in a moment, but I should tell you that a large trunk stood at the foot of my bed. Its lid was open: it looked expectant; yet it was almost empty but for a residue of old sweet wrappers, empty ink bottles and broken quills that coated the very bottom. Nearby, on the floor, lay a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words:

 _Issued on behalf of the Ministry of Magic_

 _PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY_

 _AGAINST DARK FORCES_

 _The wizarding community is currently under threat from an organisation calling itself the Love Destroyers. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family and your home from attack._

 _1\. You are advised not to leave the house alone._

 _2\. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible, arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen._

 _3\. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms and, in the case of under-age family members, Side-Along-Apparition._

 _4\. Agree security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Love Destroyers masquerading as others by use of Polyjuice Potion (see page 2)._

 _5\. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend or neighbour is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4)._

 _6\. Should the Death Trail appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror Office immediately._

 _7\. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Love Destroyers may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY._

I grunted in my sleep and my head lolled sideways on my pillow. An alarm clock that sat on my windowsill showed that it was one minute to eleven. In the free hand that lay on my stomach was a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. I had read this letter so often since its arrival three days ago that, although it had been delivered in a tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat.

 _Dear Kiara,_

 _If it is convenient to you, I shall call at your grandmothers' cottage this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to Dawson Manor, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays, which you grandmothers have strongly agreed with, never fear._

 _If you are agreeable, I should be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to Dawson Manor. I shall explain this more fully when I see you._

 _Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday._

 _I am, yours most sincerely,_

 _Susan Crighton_

This letter had arrived the day after my parents had left for Dawson Manor. During the two weeks we spent together, my parents got to know me better, and I them: they told me about the nicer times of their school days and some parts of their childhoods, and I let them know about my interests and hobbies, and some of the things that Crighton had left out from my time at Dragon Mort, some of which they weren't too happy about, but what's done is done, as they say. We also went horse riding - well, my father went riding with me, but Mum stayed home with my grandmothers, learning how to cook and helping out with the housework, but not overworking herself because of the baby she was carrying. Anyway, I showed my father all the places I had been to before I had gone to Dragon Mort, told him about all the creatures I had seen and tended to over the years. My father was pleased and proud of my actions. He never told me, but how he looked at me told me everything I needed to know.

I wasn't the only one grateful to have my parents back, oh no, for my grandmothers were just as happy. Indeed, they both took pride in teasing my mother and father in how they acted when they were little, and as much as they asked my grandmothers to stop, I think they secretly liked it - and so did I. My grandmothers even got some photo albums and pictures from the attic that showed my parents as children, which I relished in. Of course I was sad when the day came that my parents had to go to Dawson Manor, but I wasn't too upset for I knew that I would be seeing them again soon - though how soon I had no idea. Which brings us back to the letter.

Though I already knew it by heart, I had stolen glances at this missive every few minutes since seven o'clock that evening, when I had taken up possession on my bed which was beside my window, which showed a good view of the garden. I knew it was pointless to keep rereading Crighton's words, I had sent back my "yes" with the delivery owl, as requested, and all I could do was wait: either Crighton was going to come, or she was not.

Of course, I had shown the letter to my grandmothers and told them that I had sent my consent, seeing as they had already agreed to my staying at Dawson Manor. Grandmother Sarabi told my to pack. But I didn't. I couldn't. It just seemed too good to be true that I was going to be taken to Dawson Manor after a mere two weeks spent in my grandmothers' company. I could not shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong - my reply to Crighton's letter might have gone astray; Crighton could be prevented from collecting me; the letter might turn out not to be from Crighton at all, but a trick or joke or trap. I had not been able to face packing and then being let down and having to unpack again. The only gesture I had made to the possibility of a journey was to shut my snowy owl, Harold, safely in his cage.

The minute hand on the alarm clock reached number twelve, and at that precise moment, there was a faint _pop_ outside my window.

I woke as though the _pop_ was an alarm. Sitting up quickly and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I looked out the window. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the garden path.

I jumped up as though I had received an electric shock, got to my feet and started snatching anything and everything within reach from the floor and throwing it into the trunk. Even as I lobbed a set of robes, two spellbooks and a packet of crisps into my trunk, someone knocked on the door.

Downstairs, I heard Grandmother Sarabi call up to me, "Kiara, Professor Crighton's here, darling!"

"Coming, Grandmother," I called back, and with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other, I rushed to my bedroom door, fumbled with the handle, then I darted downstairs, opened the door to the kitchen and lounge and dashed to the hall, where in the doorway stood a tall, thin woman with waist-length caramel hair that was slowly turning silver and curled inwardly at the ends. Her silver phoenix pendant fixed with tiny emerald jewels was visible where her long black travelling cloak didn't cover it. She didn't see me, as my grandmothers were in front of me, both of them greeting Crighton joyously, and she them.

"Susan, it's so good to see you," said Grandmother Sarabi, smiling warmly.

"Yes, it's been too long since your last visit," said Grandmother Sarafina.

"It has indeed," said Crighton, smiling brightly, her green eyes twinkling. "I take it by the fact that neither of you are not surprised to see me that Kiara forewarned you of my presence?"

"Yes, she did," said Grandmother Sarabi at once. "She came downstairs to tell us not long after she got your letter. Won't you come in?" she added, moving aside so that Crighton could pass.

"Thank you." Crighton stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind her. She turned round and, seeing as Grandmother Sarabi's move had revealed me at last, it allowed Crighton's eyes to fall on mine for the first time that evening, she saw me clearly and smiled at me with a most satisfied expression.

"Ah, good evening, Kiara. Excellent, excellent."

"Good evening, Professor Crighton," I said. Remembering I was about a foot away from the sitting room, I said, "Please, ma'am, make yourself at home." I gestured to the room behind me. Crighton's smile widened and she went into the lounge, sitting in an armchair by the window. "Would you care for some refreshment, ma'am?" I asked her, once I had followed her in. "Tea? Coffee? Wine?"

"Yes, I think wine would be just fine, thank you, Kiara," said Crighton. "Oak-matured mead if you can find some, for I am rather partial to it ... if you don't mind, that is?"

"Of course not, Susan," answered Grandmother Sarabi. "I believe I have some lying in the kitchen. I'll fetch it for you now."

"Thank you, Sarabi. And bring a glass for Kiara, too; I think she's old enough to try some."

Grandmother Sarabi seemed surprised by Crighton's request, but made no complaint as she scurried into the kitchen. Grandmother Sarafina and I sat down on the three-seater sofa, with myself sat at the end close to Crighton. We heard Grandmother Sarabi looking for the bottle.

"Aren't - aren't we leaving, ma'am?" I asked Crighton to break the silence; I cast Grandmother Sarafina an apologetic look at how it must have sounded, but she just patted my hand and smiled reassuringly at me. I smiled gratefully back before I turned to face Crighton again.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first," said Crighton. "And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your grandmothers' hospitality only a little longer - if that's all right with you, Sarabi?" Crighton added, raising her voice a little so that Grandmother Sarabi could hear her.

"Oh, it's fine, Susan, you're no trouble," Sarabi answered. Crighton chuckled, and as she did so, my eyes wandered down to her hands, and I saw that her wand hand was blackened and shrivelled; it looked as though her flesh had been burned away.

"Ma'am - what happened to your - ?"

"Later, Kiara," said Crighton, as Grandmother Sarabi reentered the room, carrying a tray which held four glasses and a dusty bottle of honey-coloured liquid. Grandmother Sarabi set the tray down, poured an equal measure of mead into each glass and handed one to each of us.

"Help yourselves to more if you need to," said Grandmother Sarabi. Turning around, she saw the objects I was holding and shook her head disapprovingly at me, before she sat down next to Grandmother Sarafina on the three-seater.

"Thank you, Sarabi," said Crighton, raising her glass to me. I raised my own to my lips and sipped it. I had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely.

"Well, Kiara," Crighton began, "before I came to your charming abode, I had to speak to your parents first."

"You did?" I asked, curious as to what she had to speak to them about. "Why?"

"Well, the details of Pumbaa's will were discovered a week ago. I have already told your parents the details of it, but I am going to shorten it down for you."

I did not say anything. I was numb with the thought of Pumbaa's will. Grandmother Sarabi fortunately asked for me, "What does the will say, Susan?"

"He has left your family all the gold he had left, Sarabi, which adds a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Fauntrotts," said Crighton. "And you inherit all of Pumbaa's possessions. Our problem is that Pumbaa also left you Warts House."

"You can keep using it as Headquarters," I said, finding my voice again. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it."

Crighton chuckled. "Your mother said the same thing, and although that is generous, we have vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, Warts family tradition declared that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of Warts. Pumbaa was the very last of the line s his younger brother, Okoro, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants your family to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pure-blood.

A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Pumbaa's mother that hung in the hall of Warts House flashed into my mind. "I bet there has," I said.

"Quite," said Crighton. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Pumbaa's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Katalina Outsider."

Grandmother Sarabi and I spoke at the same time, with tones of mixed shock and outrage once Crighton had finished. Katalina Outsider, Pumbaa's killer, inherit his house?

"No!"

"Surely not, Susan!"

"Well, we prefer that she didn't get it, either," said Crighton calmly. "Fortunately, though, we figured out how you and your family can own it, Kiara."

"How?"

"Kleaner," said Crighton simply. "Your parents gave her an order, which she followed - albeit reluctantly - and your parents sent her to work in the Dragon Mort kitchens, seeing as they didn't want to keep her with them full time. Also, your parents have decided to give Noelani the Hippogriff back to Mina, who was thrilled to see her again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Noelani's safety, to rechristen her Aureole for the time being, though I doubt the Ministry would ever guess she is the Hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Kiara, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm ..."

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Crighton suggested shrewdly.

"While we're on the subject, why didn't you pack when I told you to, Kiara?" Grandmother Sarabi asked, clearly disappointed in me.

"It's all right, Sarabi," said Crighton calmly. "It's no less than I expected after how I treated Kiara last year."

"I'll just go and - er - finish off my packing," I said hastily, getting up and heading for the door to the stairs.

It took me a little over ten minutes to track down everything I needed; at last I had managed to extract the baton which held my Invisibility Cloak from under my bed, screwed the top back on my jar of Colour-Change Ink and forced the lid of my trunk shut on my cauldron. Then, heaving my trunk in one hand and holding Harold's cage in the other, I made my way back downstairs.

I was not disappointed to discover that Crighton was still in the sitting room with my grandmothers. None of them were talking; it was by no means an uncomfortable silence, though, for I did not sense any tension, and every now and then someone would raise their glass to their lips. As Crighton saw me, she smiled in satisfaction and turned to face my grandmothers.

"Seeing as your granddaughter is now ready, I have a few last things to say to you," Crighton said to them. "As you are aware, Kiara comes of age in a year's time, and Lady Zira has returned to this country. The wizarding community is (as you are already aware of, Sarabi) in a state of open warfare. Kiara, whom Lady Zira has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I gave her to you fifteen years ago, with the hope that you would care for her as though she were your own, despite some difficulties that have arisen over the years."

"I know we haven't been as we could have when it came to looking after Kiara when Mavuto, Frank and Carol have been here, or taken her out for the day, Susan," said Grandmother Sarabi, "and we take full responsibility for that, but we've done the best that we can, have we not? We've never denied Kiara anything, never let her go without food, clothes and a roof over her head, and not once have we neglected her."

"That you have not, Sarabi," said Crighton, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "I must tell you now that the magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Kiara has powerful protection while she can still call this house home. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Kiara turns seventeen; in other words, the moment she becomes a woman. I ask only this: that you allow Kiara to return, once more, to this house, before her seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

"Of course," said Grandmother Sarafina at once. "As Sarabi said, we would never deny Kiara anything. Besides, protection or not, she will always be welcome here, and she will always have a room if she needs it."

"Good," Crighton said, nodding curtly. "Right, Kiara, say farewell to your grandmothers. We have a lot of work to do tonight, and I hope to see it done before dawn."

My grandmothers stood up as well and came to me. Grandmother Sarafina was the first to embrace me.

"You be good, now, and we'll see you soon, all right?"

"Yes, Grandmother Sarafina," I said. She kissed my forehead and let me go.

Grandmother Sarabi hugged me next.

"She means soon, as well, Sarafina does," she said.

"What do you mean?" I said, pulling away slightly so I could see her face better. Grandmother Sarabi looked at me with a teasing gleam in her eyes.

"Well, let's just say that you'll be expecting two very important people coming to Dawson Manor for your birthday."

I looked at her, wondering who she was talking about, until it hit me, and when it did a big grin crossed my face. "Really?" I asked her. She nodded, and I hugged Grandmother Sarabi tightly, squealing delightedly into her shoulder. I heard her chuckle into my hair before she drew back.

"I guess I'll see you both at Dawson Manor, then, won't I?" I said. I saw my grandmothers both nod, before Grandmother Sarabi hugged and kissed me one last time, and then let go of me properly. I then picked up Harold's cage and my trunk and followed Crighton out into the hallway.

"Put those down here, Kiara," said Crighton beside the door.

"Why?" I said, doing what she said.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," she explained, pulling out her wand. "I shall send them to Dawson Manor to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak ... just in case."

I extracted my Cloak from my trunk with some difficulty, trying not to show Crighton the mess within. Once I had pulled the baton out, extracted the Cloak from it, placed the baton back in my trunk and stuffed the Cloak into an inside pocket of my jacket. Crighton waved her wand and the trunk, cage and Harold vanished. Crighton then waved her wand again and the front door opened on to cool, misty darkness.

"And now, Kiara, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Arachne Beadu**

 **KIARA**

Despite the fact that I had been waiting for Crighton to come and collect me, I felt distinctly awkward as we set off down the hill from my grandmothers' cottage together. I had never had a proper conversation with my headmistress outside of Dragon Mort before that point; there was usually a desk between us. The memory of our last face-to-face encounter kept intruding, too, and it rather heightened my sense of embarrassment; I had shouted a lot on that occasion, not to mention doing my best to smash several of Crighton's most prized possessions; however, I did not rip any of the pictures her children had sent her over the years from the spot on her office wall where she had pinned them, which would probably account for how calm Crighton was - well, that or Crighton was extremely forgiving.

"Keep your wand at the ready, Kiara," she said brightly.

"But I thought I'm not allowed to use magic outside school, ma'am?"

"If there is an attack," said Crighton, "I give you permission to use any counter-jinx or -curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, ma'am?"

"You are with me," said Crighton simply. "This will do, Kiara."

She came to an abrupt halt near the bottom of the hill.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition test?" she said.

"No," I said. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Crighton. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind - as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

I gripped Crighton's preferred forearm.

"Very good," said Crighton. "Well, here we go."

I felt Crighton's arm twist away from me and I redoubled my grip: the next thing I knew, everything went black; I was being pressed very hard from all directions; I could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around my chest; my eyeballs were being forced back into my head; my eardrums were being pushed deeper into my skull, and then -

I gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened my streaming eyes. I felt as though I had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before I realised that my grandmothers' cottage had vanished. Crighton and I were now standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the centre of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. My comprehension having just caught up with my senses, I realised that I had just Apparated for the very first time in my life.

"Are you all right?" asked Crighton, who was looking down at me solicitously. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," I said, rubbing my ears, which felt as though they had left my grandmothers' cottage rather reluctantly. "But I think I might prefer brooms."

Crighton smiled, drew her travelling cloak a little more tightly around her neck and said, "This way."

She set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, it was almost midnight.

"So, tell me, Kiara," said Crighton. "Your scar ... has it been hurting at all?"

I raised a hand unconsciously to my forehead and rubbed the flame-shaped mark.

"No," I said, "and I've been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all the time now Zira's getting to powerful again."

I glanced up at Crighton and saw that she was wearing a satisfied expression.

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," said Crighton. "Lady Zira has finally realised the dangerous access to her thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that she is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I'm not complaining," I said, for I missed neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Zira's mind.

We turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. I looked sideways at Crighton again.

"Professor?"

"Kiara?"

"Er - where exactly are we?"

"This, Kiara, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And what are we doing here?"

"Ah, yes, of course, I haven't told you," said Crighton. "Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one number of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Dragon Mort."

"How can I help with that, ma'am? And shouldn't it be Sian who should help you with this and not me?"

"Sian has quite enough to be getting on with at the moment, Kiara. Besides, I'm sure we'll find a use for you," said Crighton vaguely. "Left here, Kiara."

We proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. The odd chill that had lain over my grandmothers' cottage for two weeks persisted here, too. Thinking of Stingers, I cast a look over my shoulder and grasped my wand reassuringly in my pocket.

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door," said Crighton. "Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Dragon Mort, for instance - "

" - you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," I said quickly. "Sian told me."

"And she's quite right. We turn left again."

The church clock chimed midnight behind us. I wondered why Crighton did not consider it rude to call on her old colleague so late, but now that conversation had been established, I had more pressing questions to ask.

"Ma'am, I saw in the _Daily Squabbler_ that Sweets has been sacked ..."

"Correct," said Crighton, as we turned up a side-street. "She has been replaced, as I am sure you also saw, by Rowena Scrimwazz, who used to be Junior Head of the Auror Office."

"Is she ... do you think she's good?" I asked.

"An interesting question," said Crighton. "She is able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelia."

"Yes, but I meant - "

"I know what you meant. Rowena is a woman of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of her working life, does not underestimate Lady Zira."

I waited, but Crighton did not say anything about the disagreement with Scrimwazz that the _Daily Squabbler_ had reported, and I did not have the nerve to pursue the subject, so I changed it.

"And ... ma'am ... I saw about Mr Bongos."

"Yes," said Crighton quietly. "A terrible loss. He was a great wizard. Just up here, I think - ouch."

She had pointed with her injured hand.

"Professor, what happened to your - ?"

"I have no time to explain now," said Crighton. "It is a thrilling tale, I wish to do it justice."

She smiled at me, which I understood to mean that I was not being snubbed, and that I had permission to keep asking questions.

"Ma'am - we got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against the Love Destroyers ..."

"Yes, my family received one, too," said Crighton, still smiling. "Did you find it useful?"

"Grandmother Sarabi did, but I didn't see much in it, to be honest."

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favourite flavour of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Crighton, and not an impostor."

"I didn't ..." I began, not entirely sure whether I was being reprimanded or not.

"For future reference, Kiara, it is blackcurrant ... although of course, if I were a Love Destroyer, I would have been sure to research my own jam-preferences before impersonating myself."

"Er ... right," I said. "Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear. I asked Grandmother Sarabi about them, but I don't think she had heard of them before."

"They are corpses," said Crighton calmly. "Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Lord Voldemort was powerful ... he killed enough people to make an army of them, of course. This is the place, Kiara, just here ..."

We were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. I was too busy digesting the horrible idea of Inferi to have much attention left for anything else, but as we reached the front gate Crighton stopped dead and I walked into her.

"Oh, dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

I followed her gaze up the carefully tended front path and I felt my heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

Crighton glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted.

"Wand out and follow me, Kiara," she said quietly.

She opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path with me at her heels, then pushed the front door very slowly, her wand raised at the ready.

 _"Lumos."_

Crighton's wand-tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding her illuminated wand aloft, Crighton walked into the sitting room with me right behind her.

A scene of total devastation met our eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at our feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little further away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Crighton raised her wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was splattered over the wallpaper. My small intake of breath made Crighton look round.

"Not pretty, is it," she said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Crighton moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinising the wreckage at her feet. I followed, gazing around, half-scared of what I might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body.

"Maybe there was a fight and - and they dragged her off, Professor?" I suggested, trying not to imagine how badly wounded a woman would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up the walls.

"I don't think so," said Crighton quietly, peering behind an overstuffed cushion, that was in a rather thin-looking armchair, which was on its side.

"You mean she's - ?"

"Still here somewhere? Yes."

And without warning, Crighton swooped, plunging the tip of her wand into the cushion of the thin-looking armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Arachne," said Crighton. straightening up again.

My jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now stood an extremely tall, thin woman, who was massaging her rather large rear and who was looking down at Crighton with an angry glare.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," she said, extending to her full height. "It hurt."

The wand light his her extremely long arms and legs, which seemed to go on for ever, her long, spindly fingers, her pointed head, which was covered in thick black hair that barely reached her shoulders, as well as her prominent eyes and the silver buttons on her green dressing-gown, which covered a green nightgown.

"What gave it away?" she sighed as she surveyed Crighton wearily, still rubbing her rump. She seemed remarkably unabashed for a woman who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Arachne," said Crighton, looking amused, "if the Love Destroyers really had come to call, the Death Trail would have been set over the house."

The witch clapped a thin, bony hand to her forehead.

"The Death Trail," she muttered. "Knew there was something ... ah well. Wouldn't have had time, anyway. I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room.

She heaved a great sigh and shook her hair back.

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" asked Crighton politely.

"Please," said the witch.

They stood back to back, the tall thin witch and the slightly taller and thinner witch, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.

The furniture flew back to its original place; ornaments re-formed in mid-air; feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared on to side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks and holes healed everywhere; and the walls wiped themselves clean.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked Crighton loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather clock.

"On the walls? Dragon," shouted the witch called Arachne as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling.

There was a final _plunk_ from the piano and silence.

"Yes, dragon," repeated the witch conversationally. "My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable."

She walked over to a small crystal bottle standing on top of a sideboard and held it up to the light, examining the thick liquid within.

"Hm. Bit dusty."

She set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that her gaze fell upon me.

"A-ha," she said, her large round eyes flying to my forehead and the flame-shaped scar it bore. _"A-ha!"_

"This," said Crighton, moving forwards to make the introduction, "is Kiara Pride-Lander. Kiara, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Arachne Beadu."

Beadu turned on Crighton, her expression shrewd.

"So, that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Susan."

She pushed past me, her face turned resolutely away with the air of a woman trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Crighton. "For old times' sake?"

Beadu hesitated.

"All right then, one drink," she said ungraciously.

Crighton smiled at me and directed me towards a chair not unlike the one that Beadu had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. I took the seat with the distinct impression that Crighton, for some reason, wanted to keep me as visible as possible. Certainly when Beadu, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, her eyes fell immediately upon me.

"Humph," she said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting her eyes. "Here - " She gave a drink to Crighton, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the tray at me and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa, placed her feet on an ottoman and a disgruntled silence. Her legs were so long that she had to push the ottoman towards the table so that her feet would fit on it properly.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Arachne?" Crighton asked.

"Not so well," said Beadu at once. "Weak chest. Arthritis too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice," said Crighton. "You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Beadu said, half-irritably, half-proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," she added sternly, seeming to pull herself back together again, "the fact remains that I'm an old woman, Susan. A tired old woman who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

She certainly had those, I thought, as I looked around the room. It was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions. If I had not known who lived there, I would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady.

"You're not yet as old as I am, Arachne," said Crighton.

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," said Beadu bluntly. Her pale gooseberry eyes had found Crighton's injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

"You're quite right," said Crighton serenely, shaking back her sleeve to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers; the sight of them made the back of my neck prickle unpleasantly. "I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand ..."

She shrugged and spread her hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations, and I noticed a ring on her uninjured hand that I had never seen Crighton wear before: it was large, rather clumsily made of what looked like silver, and was set with a heavy ruby stone that had cracked down the middle. Beadu's eyes lingered for a moment on the ring, too, and I saw a tiny frown momentarily crease her wide forehead.

"So, all these precautions against intruders, Arachne ... are they for the Love Destroyers' benefit, or mine?" asked Crighton.

"What would the Love Destroyers want with a poor broken-down old girl like me?" demanded Beadu.

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture and murder," said Crighton. "Are you really telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?"

Beadu eyed Crighton balefully for a moment, then muttered, "I haven't given them the chance. I've been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house - the owners of this place are on holiday in the Hawaiian Islands. It's been very pleasant, I'll be sorry to leave. It's quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbours don't spot you bringing in the piano."

"Ingenious," said Crighton. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old girl in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Dragon Mort - "

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can think again, Susan! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumours have reached me since Democritus Umber left! If that's how you treat teachers these days - "

"Professor Umber ran afoul of our centaur herd," said Crighton. "I think you, Arachne, would have known better than to stride into the Forest and call a horde of angry centaurs "filthy half-breeds"."

"That's what he did, did he?" said Beadu. "Idiotic man. Never liked him."

I chuckled and both Beadu and Crighton looked round at me.

"Sorry," I said hastily. "I didn't like him, either."

Crighton stood up rather suddenly.

"Are you leaving?" asked Beadu at once, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I could use your bathroom," said Crighton.

"Oh," said Beadu, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Crighton crossed the room. Once the door had closed behind her there was silence. After a few moments Beadu got to her feet, but seemed uncertain what to do with herself. She shot a furtive look at me, then strode to the fire and turned her back on it, warming her large behind.

"Don't think I don't know why she's brought you," she said sharply.

I merely looked at Beadu. Beadu's watery eyes slid over my scar, this time taking in the rest of my face.

"You look very like your mother."

"Yeah, I've been told," I said.

"Except for your mouth. You've got - "

"My father's mouth, yeah." I had heard it so often I found it a bit wearing.

"Humph. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favourites as a teacher, of course, but he was one of mine. Your father," Beadu added, in answer to my questioning look. "Simba Pride-Lander. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming boy - much like your mother, who was talented, too, in her own way, but I always preferred your father. I used to tell them both that they ought to have been in my house. Very cheeky answers I used to get back from the pair of them, too."

"Which was your house?"

"I was head of Snake-Eyes," said Beadu. "Oh, now," she went on quickly, seeing the expression on my face and wagging a long thin finger at me, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be in Lion-Heart like them, I supposed? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Pumbaa Warts? You must have done - been in the papers for the last couple of weeks - died a few weeks ago, in fact - "

It was as though an invisible hand had twisted my intestines and held them tight.

"Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your mother's at school. Most of the Warts family had been in my house, but Pumbaa ended up in Lion-Heart! Shame - he was a talented boy. I got his brother Okoro when he came along, but I'd have liked the set."

She sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at auction. Apparently lost in memories, she gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot to ensure an even heat on her rear.

"Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, like your father - "

"One of my best friends is pure-blood," I said, "and she's one of the best in our year, but that isn't to say that Muggle-borns can't be talented, too."

Beadu looked down her long, thin, bony nose at me in surprise.

"You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" she said. "No, no, no! Your mother was one of my all-time favourite students - though, as I said before, I always preferred your father. And there was Daphne Cauldwell in the year after them, too - now head of the Faun and Goblin Liaison Office, of course - another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent information on the goings-on at Fauntrotts!"

She bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-satisfied way, and pointed at the many glittering photograph frames on the dresser, each peopled with tiny moving occupants.

"All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barbara Cramp, editor of the _Daily Squabbler_ , she's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosia Fume, of the Sugarshack - a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give her an introduction to Cecelia Hawkins, who gave her her first job! And at the back - you'll see him if you just crane your neck - that's Gien Johnson, who of course captains Lancashire ... people are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with Lancashire, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

This thought seemed to cheer her up enormously.

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" I asked, for I could not help understanding why the Love Destroyers had not yet tracked down Beadu if hampers of sweets, Quidditch tickets and visitors craving her advice and opinions could find her.

The smile slid from Beadu's face as quickly as the blood from her walls.

"Of course not," she said, looking down at me. "I have been out of touch with everyone for a year."

I had the impression that the words shocked Beadu herself; she looked quite unsettled for a moment. Then she shrugged.

"Still ... the prudent witch keeps her head down at all times. All very well for Crighton to talk, but taking up a post at Dragon Mort just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Centaur! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate - "

"You don't have to join the Order to teach at Dragon Mort," I said, not quite able to keep a note of derision out of my voice: it was hard to sympathise with Beadu's cosseted existence when I remembered my parents, crouched in a cave and living on rats. "Most of the teachers aren't in it and none of them have ever been killed - well, unless you count Quarrell, and she got what she deserved seeing as she was working with Zira."

I had been sure Beadu would be one of those wizards who could not bear to hear Zira's name spoken aloud, and was not disappointed: Beadu gave a shudder and a squeak of protest, which I ignored.

"I reckon the staff are safer there than most people while Crighton's headmistress; she's supposed to be the only one Zira ever feared, isn't she?" I went on.

Beadu gazed into space for a moment or two: she seemed to be thinking over my words.

"Well, yes, it is true that She Who Must Not Be Named has never sought a fight with Crighton," she muttered grudgingly. "And I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Love Destroyers, She Who Must Not Be Named can hardly count me a friend ... in which case, I might well be safer for a little closer to Susan ... I cannot pretend that Arnold Bongos' death did not shake me ... if he, with all his Ministry contacts and protection ..."

Crighton re-entered the room and Beadu jumped as though she had forgotten she was in her house.

"Oh, there you are, Susan," she said. "You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," said Crighton. "I do love sewing and knitting patterns. Well, Kiara, we have trespassed upon Arachne's hospitality long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."

Not at all reluctant to obey, I jumped to my feet. Beadu seemed taken aback.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost ..."

Beadu seemed agitated. She twiddled her thin bony thumbs and fidgeted as she watched Crighton fastening her travelling cloak and me zipping up my jacket.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Arachne," said Crighton, raising her uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "Dragon Mort would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes ... well ... very gracious ... as I say ..."

"Goodbye, then."

"Bye," I said.

We were at the front door when there was a shout from behind us.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Crighton turned to see Beadu standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," said Beadu impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," said Crighton, beaming. "Then, Arachne, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," grumbled Beadu.

As we set off down the garden path, Beadu's voice floated after us.

"I want a pay rise, Crighton!"

Crighton chuckled. The garden gate swung shut behind us and we set off back down the hill through the dark and swirling mist.

"Well done, Kiara," said Crighton.

"I didn't do anything," I said in surprise.

"Oh yes you did. You showed Arachne exactly how much she stands to gain by returning to Dragon Mort. Did you like her?"

"Er ..."

I wasn't sure whether I liked Beadu or not. I supposed she had been pleasant in her own way, but she had also seemed vain and, whatever she said to the contrary, much too surprised that a Muggle-born should make a good witch.

"Arachne," said Crighton, relieving me of the responsibility to say any of this, "likes her comfort. She also likes the company of the famous, the successful and the powerful. She enjoys the feeling that she influences these people. She has never wanted to occupy the throne herself; she prefers the back seat - more room to spread out, you see. She used to handpick favourites at Dragon Mort, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and she had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Arachne formed a kind of club of her favourites with herself at the centre, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of her favourite crystallised pineapple, or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Faun and Goblin Liaison Office."

The image of Beadu as a giant spider became more vivid, as I imagined her spinning a web around me, twitching a thread here and there to bring its large and juicy flies a little closer.

"I tell you this," Crighton continued, "not to turn you against Arachne - or, as we must now call her, Professor Beadu - but to put you on your guard. She will undoubtedly try to collect you, Kiara. You would be the jewel of her collection: the Girl Who Lived ... or, as they call you these days, the Chosen One."

At these words, a chill that had nothing to do with the surrounding mist stole over me. I was reminded of the words I had heard a few weeks ago, words that had a horrible and particular meaning to me:

 _Neither can live while the other survives ..._

Crighton had stopped walking, level with the church we had passed earlier.

"This will do, Kiara. If you will grasp my arm."

Braced this time, I was ready for the Apparition, but still found it unpleasant. When the pressure disappeared and I found myself able to breathe again, I was standing beside Crighton in front of a pair of wrought iron gates, looking at something murky that lay beyond. Crighton then brushed her fingers against the metal, which melted away. The murkiness faded away to reveal the silhouette of my third favourite building in the world: Dawson Manor. In spite of the feeling of dread that had just swept through me, my spirits could not help but lift at the sight of it. Chris, Sian and Chrissie were in there ... as well as my parents who, even though I had parted from there just mere days ago, I was very much looking forward to seeing again ...

"If you don't mind, Kiara," said Crighton, as we passed over the gate and up the sweeping drive, "I'd like a few words with you before we part. Perhaps in here?"

Crighton pointed towards a run-down stone outhouse where the Dawsons kept their broomsticks. A little puzzled, I followed Crighton through the creaking door into a space smaller than the average cupboard. Crighton illuminated the tip of her wand, so that it glowed like a torch, and smiled down at me.

"I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, Kiara, but I am pleased and a little proud at how well you seem to be coping after everything that happened at the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Pumbaa would have been proud of you."

I swallowed; my voice seemed to have deserted me. I did not think I could stand to discuss Pumbaa. It had been painful enough to hear his name thrown out casually by Beadu.

"It was cruel," said Crighton swiftly, "that you and Pumbaa had not spent that much time together. If he had lived, I am certain that you would have formed a close friendship with him."

I nodded, my eyes fixed resolutely on the spider now climbing Crighton's hat. I could tell that Crighton understood, that she might even suspect that through the happiness I had spent with my parents, not once had I mentioned Pumbaa's name; whenever one of my grandmothers had started to mention him, I quickly changed the subject, or else I left the room to lie on my bed, staring at the misted window that was full of the chilly emptiness that I had come to associate with Stingers.

"I'm just ... sorry I didn't get to know him as well as my parents did," I said finally, in a low voice.

My eyes burned suddenly and I blinked. I felt stupid for admitting it, but the fact that I had someone who knew my parents well, who went to school with them, who stayed close to them for most of their adult lives, and who cared for me in a way ... and now, it seemed that my family had an empty space in it, a space that could never be filled by anyone but Pumbaa Warts ...

"Pumbaa was a good friend to your parents, and given the time I'm sure he would have been a good friend to you, too," said Crighton. "Naturally, it is hard to accept that such an important figure in your family is gone ..."

"But while my parents were with me at my grandmothers," I interrupted, my voice growing stronger, "I realised I can't shut myself away or - or crack up. Pumbaa wouldn't have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life's too short ... look at Mr Bongos, look at Emmett Vaughn ... it could be me next, couldn't it? But if it is," I said fiercely, looking straight into Crighton's green eyes, gleaming in the wandlight, "I'll make sure I take as many Love Destroyers with me as I can, and Zira too if I can manage it."

"Spoken like Simba and Nala's daughter!" said Crighton, bowing her head humbly. "I take my hat off to you - or I would, if I were not afraid of showering you in spiders.

"And now, Kiara, on a closely related subject ... I gather that you have been taking the _Daily Squabbler_ over the last two weeks?"

"Yes," I said, and my heart beat a little faster.

"Then you will have seen that there have been not so much as leaks, as floods, concerning your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?"

"Yes," I said again. "And now everyone knows that I'm the one - "

"No, they do not," interrupted Crighton. "There are only three people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy made about you and Lady Zira: two of them are both standing in this smelly, spidery broom shed, and the other is in the house. It is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that Zira sent her Love Destroyers to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you.

"Now, I think I am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?"

"No," I said.

"A wise decision, on the whole," said Crighton. "Although, I think you and Sian ought to relax it in favour of Chris and Chrissie. Yes," she continued, when I looked startled, "I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them."

"I didn't want - "

" - to worry or frighten them?" said Crighton, surveying me with her extraordinary green eyes. "Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends, Kiara. As you so rightly said, Pumbaa would not have wanted you to shut yourself away."

I said nothing, but Crighton did not seem to require an answer. She continued, "On a different, though related subject, it is my wish that you and Sian take private lessons with me this year."

"Private - with Sian - and you?" I said, surprised out of my preoccupied silence.

"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in yours and Sian's education."

"What will you be teaching us, ma'am?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Crighton airily.

I waited hopefully, but Crighton did not elaborate, so I asked something else that had been bothering me slightly.

"If I'm having lessons with you, I won't have to do Occlumency lessons with Triphorm, will I?"

" _Professor_ Triphorm, Kiara - and no, you will not."

"Good," I said in relief, "because they were a - "

I stopped, careful not to say what I really thought.

"I think the word "fiasco" would be a good one here," said Crighton, nodding.

I laughed.

"Well, that means I won't see much of Professor Triphorm from now on," I said, "because she won't let me carry on Potions unless I get "Outstanding" in my O.W.L., which I know I haven't."

"Don't count your owls before they are delivered," said Crighton gravely. "Which, now I think of it, ought to be sometime later today. I have not even told Sian this."

I was taken aback by this news, for I would have thought that Crighton would have shared this piece of news with Sian more than any other.

"Why not, ma'am?"

Crighton's eyes had a teasing twinkle to them. "Well," she said, "it's more fun to see how she reacts. True, Sian and I share a lot of things, but sometimes I like to keep something from her, to see how she responds. And I get some rather interesting reactions, I might add."

She chuckled. I rolled my eyes, a playful smile forming on my lips. When Crighton spoke again, her tone was suddenly serious.

"Now, two more things, Kiara, before we part.

"Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onwards. Even within Dragon Mort itself. Just in case, you understand me?"

I nodded.

"And lastly, while you stay here, Dawson Manor has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. these measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Matthew and myself - all our post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry, before being sent on. We do not mind in the slightest, for our only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while you stay with Matt and my children. And bear in mind, Kiara, if you try to leave, for my source inside the house will let me know immediately."

Not doubting for a second who she meant by her "source inside the house", I quickly said, "I understand."

"Very well, then," said Crighton, pushing open the broom-shed door and stepping out into the garden. Looking towards the house, Crighton smiled and said, "Good, Sian's left a light on like I told her to, which means she's still up. Come, let us not deprive my eldest child the chance of seeing you much longer, and to also see how hungry you are."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **An Excess of Phlegm**

 **KIARA**

Crighton and I approached the door of Dawson Manor, which sprung up as we approached. Crighton knocked three times, and after a few moments there was movement behind the door.

"Declare yourselves!" said a firm, strong voice which I recognised as Sian's. "I've got a wand and I'm not afraid to use it!"

Crighton chuckled softly and said, "Do not be alarmed, Sian. It is just I, your mother, and I bring you Kiara."

There were many clicks and unscrewing of bolts and the door opened. There stood Sian, just as tall as her mother and practically her mother's double, wearing a dark blue dressing-gown.

"Kiara, it's so good to see you! I take it by your late arrival, Ma, that things went better than you'd hoped?"

"Much better, thank you, Sian," said Crighton, ushering me over the threshold. "Beadu proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Kiara's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nanna!"

I looked around and saw through the door behind Sian that led to the main house that Sian was not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy-brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.

"Hello, Professor," she said. "Wotcher, Kiara."

"Hi, Todd."

I thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colourful than usual without her customary shade of bubblegum-pink hair.

"I'd better be off," she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Sian.

"Please don't leave on my account," said Crighton courteously. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rowena Scrimwazz."

"No, no, I need to get going," said Todd, not meeting Crighton's eyes. "Night - "

"Well, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Timon and Crazy-Head are coming - "

"No, really, Sian ... thanks anyway ... goodnight, everyone."

Todd hurried past Crighton and I into the driveway; a few paces beyond the gate, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air. I noticed that Sian wore a worried expression.

"Well, Sian, Kiara, I shall see you both at Dragon Mort," said Crighton. "Take care of yourselves, now."

"We will, Ma," said Sian. "See you in September."

Sian kissed her mother's cheek, and as she pulled back I saw her look at her mother's burned hand, the worried expression back. Crighton smiled sadly at her, kissed her forehead and followed Todd, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Sian closed the door on the empty driveway and forced me into the house, closing the door on the hallway behind her. She then came up to me and examined me closely, scrutinising every inch of me through narrowed eyes.

"You need feeding up, my girl," she said shrewdly at last. "You're a bit thinner than you were when I last saw you, and there's not as much colour in your cheeks as I'd like there to be." She then unnarrowed her eyes and said in a softer tone, "I take it you're hungry, then?"

"Very," I said, suddenly realising just how hungry I was.

"Sit down and wait here. I'll go and knock something up for you."

As I sat down and looked around the still and silent room, a furry black cat with a squashed face jumped on to my knees and settled there, purring. I tickled Lucifer behind the ear, waiting for Sian to come back. After about five minutes, Sian came back with a tray that had a bow of tomato soup, some sliced bread a bottle of Butterbeer on it.

"So, I take it that you and your mother haven't been on holiday this year, then?" I asked her, after she had settled the tray down.

"No, we both agreed it was too dangerous, now that Zira's back in the open," said Sian. "And my parents both need me here to keep an eye on things, let's say. Everyone's in bed, of course, for we didn't know when you'd be arriving. Everyone's looking forward to see you; we've been looking forward to having you here for days."

Sian then sat down opposite me, watching me with approval as I gulped down hot soup.

"So, you persuaded this Beadu person to take the job?"

I nodded, my mouth so full of hot soup that I could not speak.

"She taught my father, you know," said Sian. "Stayed at Dragon Mort for ages, Ma told me. Started around the same time as Ma herself, in fact. Did you like her?"

My mouth now full of bread, I shrugged and gave a non-committal jerk of the head.

"I understand," said Sian, nodding wisely. "My father's told me about her. He says that she can be charming when she wants to be, but he's never liked her that much. The Ministry's littered with Beadu's favourites, she was always good at giving leg-ups, but she never had much time for my father - didn't seem to think he was enough of a high-flier. Well, that just shows you, even Beadu makes mistakes. I told Chris and Chrissie not to tell you in their letters, for I wanted to tell you in person - it's only just happens - but my father's been promoted!"

It could not have been clearer that Sian had been bursting to say this. I swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and thought I felt my throat blistering.

"That's great!" I gasped.

"Thanks, Kiara. We're happy, too," beamed Sian. "Yes, Rowena Scrimwazz has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and my father's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, she's got ten people working for him now!"

"What exactly - ?"

"Well, you see, in all the panic about Zira, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against Zira and the Love Destroyers. You can imagine the kind of thing - so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of Bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off ... well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mona Fetch, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day my father confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Love Destroyer. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark-plugs and toasters and all the other Muggle contraptions he's obsessed with." Sian ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been me suggesting that it was natural to miss spark-plugs.

"Is Mr Dawson still at work?" I asked.

"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's running a tiny bit late ... he said he'd be back around midnight ..."

She pulled out her phone and studied it closely for a few moments, worry crossing her features once more. After a few moments, she looked up at me, showing a vulnerable side of her I had not seen before.

"You know, Kiara," said Sian, trying to keep her voice under control, "I try and remain strong for my siblings, but as hard as I try, I can't hope feeling scared ... which is natural, of course ... I mean, everyone's worried and scared these days, aren't they? Everyone's in mortal peril ... it can't be just our family ... but I don't know how to check with anyone else. Oh!"

With a sudden exclamation, she picked up her phone, for it had just sent her a message from someone.

"He's coming!"

And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the front door. Sian jumped up, opened the door to the hallway and stood beside the front door; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, "Dad, is that you?"

"Yes," came Mr Dawson's voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Love Destroyer, love. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly ..."

"Sian!"

"All right, all right ... what is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how Muggle trains work."

Sian nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr Dawson was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.

"Sian! I've got to ask your question first!"

"Oh, Dad, must you really - "

"What do your mother and I like to call you?"

I saw how uncomfortable Sian looked, and I could almost hear the groan she made as she rolled her eyes and hissed, "Siany!" into the crack at the edge of the door.

"Correct," said Mr Dawson. "Now you can let me in."

Sian opened the door to reveal her father, a tall, quite-large, brown-haired wizard who wore a long and dusty travelling cloak.

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home," said Sian, who still looked uncomfortable as she helped her father out of his cloak. "I mean, a Love Destroyer might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

"I know, love, but it's Ministry procedure and I have to set an example. Something smells good - tomato soup?"

Mr Dawson turned hopefully in the direction of the kitchen.

"Kiara! We didn't expect you until morning!"

He hugged me and Mr Dawson dropped into the chair beside me as Sian dashed back to the kitchen to get another bowl of soup for her father.

"Thanks, Sian. It's been a rough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"

"And what really happens when you put them on?"

"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange colour, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentacle-like warts all over their bodies. Asif St Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"

"It sounds like the sort of thing Tanya and Geri would find funny," said Sian hesitantly. "Are you sure - ?"

"Of course I am!" said Mr Dawson. "Those girls wouldn't do anything like that now, not when people are desperate for protection!"

"So is that why you're late, Metamorph-Medals?"

"No, we got wind of a nasty Backfiring Jinx down in Cambridge, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there ..."

I stifled a yawn behind my hand.

"Bed," said an undeceived Sian at once. "Your room is all ready for you. And you'll be hearing no more bangs from Tanya and Geri."

"Why, where are they?"

"Oh, they're in Brickabon Alley, sleeping in their little flat above their joke shop as they're so busy," said Sian. "I must say, as much as I dislike practical jokes, I have to admit that they are doing well for themselves. Up you go, Kiara, your trunk's already up there."

"'Night, Sian, Mr Dawson," I said, pushing back my chair. Lucifer leapt lightly from my lap and slunk out of the room.

"'Night, Kiara," Mr Dawson and Sian both called after me as I climbed the stairs.

Upon entering the room, I saw a lamp burning brightly on my bedside table, turning the gold-coloured walls yellow. A fresh bunch of flowers containing honeysuckle and rosemary had been placed on a small table opposite the bedside table. On top of the wardrobe sat Harold, who hooted happily at me before taking off through the window; I knew he had been waiting to see me before going hunting. I shut the door behind me, changed into my pyjamas and got into my bed, falling asleep instantly.

Seconds later, or so it seemed to me, I was woken by what sounded like cannon-fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, I heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: the dazzling sunlight seemed to poke me hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, I said dumbly, "Wuzzgoinon?"

"We didn't know you were here already!" said a loud and excited voice, and I received a sharp blow to the top of the head.

"Chrissie, don't hurt her!" said a boy's voice reproachfully.

Then another girl's voice shouted up the stairs. "Chrissie, what did you do?"

"Nothing," said Chrissie innocently, which Sian, of course, did not buy.

"Don't give me that, Chrissie. I always know when you - hang on, did you just wake Kiara up when I just told you not to?"

Silence followed this question, which Sian took for a yes, for we then heard her say, "Aww, Chrissie!"

"I'm sorry," said Chrissie, "I'm just excited Kiara's here, that's all."

"That doesn't mean you had to wake her up!" Sian yelled.

Once I had gotten used to the sunlight, I saw two figures standing there; they were Chrissie Dawson and Chris Rickers, my other two best friends, who were both grinning broadly at me.

"All right?" Chrissie asked me.

"Never been better," I said, rubbing the top of my head and slumping back on to my pillows. "You?"

"Not bad," said Chrissie, sitting on the edge of my bed. "When did you get here? As you heard, Sian's only just told us."

"About one o'clock this morning."

"And what of your grandmothers? Are they all right? How has it been with them?"

"They're fine, and they treated me with the same love and respect they have always given me," I said, as Chris sat down on a chair that he had brought with him. "Oh, and they asked me to give you their regards, by the way. How are you, Chris?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said, who was scrutinising me as though I was sickening for something.

I thought I knew what was behind this and, as I had no wish to discuss Pumbaa's death or any other miserable subject at that moment, I said, "What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?"

"Don't worry about that, Sian's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed," said Chrissie, rolling her eyes. "So, what's been going on?"

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my grandmothers', haven't I?"

"Come off it!" said Chrissie. "You've been off with Ma!"

"It wasn't that exciting. She just wanted me to help her persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. Her name's Arachne Beadu."

"Oh," said Chrissie, looking disappointed. "We thought - "

Chris flicked Chrissie's arm with his hand and nudged his head to the open door and Chrissie changed tack at top speed.

" - we thought it'd be something like that."

"You did?" I said, amused.

"Yeah ... yeah, now that Umber has left, obviously we need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's she like?"

"She looks a bit like a giant spider and she used to be Head of Snake-Eyes," I said. "Something wrong, Chris?"

He was watching me as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. He rearranged his features hastily in an unconvincing smile.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Beadu seem like she'll be a good teacher?"

"Dunno," I said. "She can't be worse than Umber, can she?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umber," said a voice from the doorway. Chris and Chrissie's youngest sister slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Kiara."

"What's up with you?" Chrissie asked.

"It's _him_ ," said Merida, plonking herself down next to Chrissie on my bed. "He's driving me mad."

"What's he done now," said Chris sympathetically.

"It's the way he talks to me - you'd think I was about three!"

"I know," said Chris, dropping his voice. "He's so full of himself.

I was surprised to hear Chris talking about Mr Dawson like that and could not blame Chrissie for saying angrily, "Can't you two lay off him for five seconds?"

"Oh, that's right, defend him," snapped Chris. "We all know you can't get enough of him."

This seemed an odd comment to make about their father; starting to think I was missing something, I said, "Who are you - ?"

But my question was answered before I could finish it. Someone was stood in the open doorway again and I instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to my chin so hard that Chrissie and Merida slid off the bed to the floor.

A young man was stood in the doorway, a man who was so astoundingly handsome that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. He was tall and willowy with long black hair and appeared to emit a faint, golden glow. To complete this vision of perfection, he was carrying a heavily leaden breakfast tray.

"Kiara," he said in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!"

As he swept over the threshold towards me, Sian was revealed, bobbing along behind him, looking rather cross.

"There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it myself!"

"Eet was no trouble," said Ferdinand Desjardin, setting the tray across my knees and then swooping down to kiss me on each cheek: I felt the places where his mouth had touched me burn. "I 'ave been longing to see 'er. You remember my bruzzer, Simon? He never stops talking about Kiara Pride-Lander. He will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh ... is he here too?" I croaked.

"No, no, silly girl," said Ferdinand with a booming laugh, "I mean next summer when we - but do you not know?"

His great blue eyes widened and he looked reproachfully at Sian, who said, "We hadn't got round to telling her yet."

Ferdinand turned back to me, swinging his black sheet of hair so that it whipped Sian across the face.

"Sam and I are going to be married!"

"Oh," I said blankly. I could not help noticing how Chris, Sian and Merida were all determinedly avoiding each other's gaze. "Wow. Er - congratulations!"

He swooped down upon me and kissed me again.

"Sam is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Fauntrotts for my Eenglish, so she brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'er family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming - zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and music! Well, enjoy your breakfast, Kiara!"

With these words he turned gracefully and seemed to make no noise at all as he walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Sian made a noise that sounded like, "tchah!"

"Sian hates him," said Merida quietly.

"I do not hate him!" said Sian in a cross whisper. "I just think they've hurried into this engagement, that's all!"

"They've known each other for a year," said Chrissie, who looked oddly groggy and was staring at the closed door.

"Well, that's not very long! I know why it's happened, of course. It's all this uncertainty with Zira coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they're rushing all sorts of decisions they'd normally take time over. It was like this when Lord Voldemort was powerful, people eloping left, right and centre - "

"So what, Sian?" said Merida at once. "You and Kopa fell in love at Dragon Mort, and that only took nine months - "

"That may be, Merida," said Sian, "but in case you've forgotten, I'm still at school. And besides, we both agreed that we would wait and see what happens before we make any plans about marriage. And Kopa and I are made for each other. Whereas Sam and Ferdinand ... well ... What have they really got in common? She's a hard-working, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas he's - "

"A moron," said Merida, nodding. "But Sam's not that down-to-earth. She's a curse-breaker, isn't she, likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour ... I expect that's why she's gone for Phlegm."

"Stop calling him that, Merida," said Sian sharply, as Chris and I laughed. "Well, I'd better get on ... eat your eggs while they're warm, Kiara."

Looking careworn, she left the room. Chrissie still seemed slightly punch-drunk; she was shaking her head experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

"Don't you get used to him if he's staying in the same house?" I asked.

"Well, you do," said Chrissie, "but if he jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then ..."

"It's pathetic," said Chris furiously. Striding away from Chrissie as far as he could go and turning to force her with a disapproving expression.

"You don't really want him around for ever?" Chris asked Chrissie incredulously. When she merely shrugged, he said, "Well, Sian's going to put a stop to it if she can, I can bet you anything."

"How's she going to manage that?" I asked.

"She keeps trying to get Todd around for dinner. I think she's hoping Sam will fall for anyone else, really. I'd like it to be Meers, though. I'd much rather have him in our family."

"It'd be nice if someone in our family married Todd, too. She's pretty cool," said Merida.

"Yeah, that'll happen," said Chrissie sarcastically. "Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Todd, not when there's someone like Ferdinand around. I know Todd's not a man, but you know what I mean. All right, Todd's OK-looking when she's not doing stupid things to her hair and nose, but - "

"She's a damn sight nicer than _Phlegm_ ," said Chris from the corner.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Merida.

"Ferdinand's not stupid, he was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament," I said.

"Not you as well!" said Merida bitterly.

"I suppose you like the way Phlegm purrs "Kiara", do you?" said Chris scornfully.

"No," I said, wishing I hadn't spoken, "I was just saying Phlegm - I mean, Ferdinand - "

"I'd much rather have Todd in the family, even if she doesn't marry Sam," said Merida. "At least she's a laugh."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately," said Chrissie. "Every time I see her she looks more like Old Moany."

"That's not fair," snapped Chris. "She hasn't got over what happened ... you know ... I mean, he was her cousin!"

My heart sank. We had arrived at Pumbaa. I picked up a fork and began shovelling scrambled eggs into my mouth, hoping to deflect any information to join in this part of the conversation.

"Todd and Pumbaa barely knew each other!" said Chrissie. "Pumbaa wasn't involved in most of her life, and before that their families never met - "

"That's not the point," said Merida. "She thinks it was her fault he died!"

"How does that work out?" I asked, in spite of myself.

"Well, she was fighting Katalina Outsider, wasn't she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her off, Katalina couldn't have killed Pumbaa."

"That's stupid," said Chrissie.

"It's survivor's guilt," said Merida. "I know Meers has tried to talk her round, but she's still really down. She's actually having trouble with her Metamorphosing!"

"With her - ?"

"She can't change her appearance like she used to," explained Merida. "Sian thinks her powers must have been effected by shock, or something."

"I didn't know that could happen," I said.

"Nor did I, or Sian, for that matter," said Merida, "but I suppose if you're really depressed ..."

The door opened again and Sian popped her head in.

"Merida," she whispered, "come downstairs and help me with lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" said Merry, outraged.

"Now!" said Sian, and withdrew.

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" said Merry crossly. She swung her long brown hair around in a very good imitation of Ferdinand and pranced across the room with her arms held aloft like a ballerina.

"You lot had better come down quickly too," she said as she left.

I took advantage of the temporary silence to eat more breakfast. Chris was observing me closely, and Chrissie, who was now helping herself to my toast, was still gazing dreamily at the door.

"So, Tanya and Geri are sleeping above their joke shop now?" I said.

"Yeah," said Chrissie, "but they left some of their prototypes in their room, so if you go up there, be careful what you touch."

"Sian says the shop's going well," I said. "Said Tanya and Geri are doing well for themselves."

"That's an understatement," said Chrissie. "They're raking in the Galleons! I can't wait to see the place. We haven't been to Brickabon Alley yet, because Sian says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."

"And what about Perdy?" I asked; the third-eldest Fang sister had fallen out with the rest of her family and the Dawsons. "Is she talking to your mum, dad and her sisters again?"

"Nope," said Chrissie.

"But she knows your mum and dad were right all along now about Zira being back - "

"Ma says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right," said Chris. "That's what Sian told me."

"Sounds like the sort of mental thing Ma would say," said Chrissie.

"She's going to be giving Sian and me private lessons this year," I said conversationally.

Chrissie choked on her piece of toast and Chris raised his eyebrows in shock.

"You kept that quiet!" said Chrissie.

"I only just remembered," I said honestly. "She told me last night in your broom shed."

"Blimey ... private lessons with Ma!" said Chrissie, looking impressed. "I wonder why she's ...?"

Her voice trailed away. I saw her and Chris exchange looks. I laid down my knife and fork, my heart beating rather fast considering that all I was doing was sitting in bed. Crighton had said to do it ... why not now? I fixed my eyes on my fork, which was gleaming in the sunlight streaming on to my lap, and said, "I don't know exactly why she's giving us lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy."

Neither Chris nor Chrissie spoke. I had the impression that both had frozen. I continued, still speaking to my fork, "You know, the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry."

"Nobody knows what it said, though," said Chris quickly. "It got smashed."

"Although the _Squabbler_ says - " began Chrissie, but Chris said, "Shh!"

"The _Squabbler_ 's got it right," I said, looking up at them both with great effort: Chris seemed frightened and Chrissie amazed. "That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in your mum's office, she was the one the prophecy was made to, so she could tell me. From what it said," I took a deep breath, "it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Zira ... at least, it said neither can live while the other survives."

The three of us gazed at each other in silence for a moment. Then Chris dashed across the room and engulfed me in a strong hug. Once again, I saw colours and images flash vividly behind my closed eyelids. I inhaled his scent of pine and fresh berries, and felt his worry and concern. Honestly, the way he was acting, you'd have thought I was going to drop dead at any moment, wouldn't you? But I understood that this was his way of comforting me, as well as himself, and I did not push it away; in fact, I relished in it.

We pulled away after a few moments, but that did not stop him from looking at me concernedly, which was so strong I was overwhelmed slightly. He also cupped my face softly in his strong hands.

"Chris ..." I said softly. "Wh - why did you - ?"

"I know, I know ... it's just ... oh, Kiara ..."

He sat down on the edge of my bed, not letting go of my face as he did.

"We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry ... obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you, but from what Narissa Malty said about the prophecy, how it was about you and She-You-Know, well, we thought it might be something like this ... and Sian knew, of course, but she told us to hear it from you ... oh, Kiara ..." He stared at me, then whispered, "Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was," I said. "When I first heard it, I was ... but now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face her in the end ..."

"When Ma told us she was collecting you in person, we thought she might be telling you something, or showing you something, to do with the prophecy," said Chrissie eagerly. "And we were kind of right, weren't we? She wouldn't be giving you lessons if she thought you were a goner, wouldn't waste her time - she must think you've got a chance! Though, why Sian has to have private lessons with you, too, I have no idea ..."

"I don't think any of us do, Chrissie," said Chris, "except for Sian, and most of what Ma tells her, Sian keeps to herself, anyway. I'm just wondering what Ma's going to teach the two of you, Kiara. Really advanced defensive magic, probably ... powerful counter-curses ... anti-jinxes ..."

I did not really listen. A warmth then spread through me that had nothing to do with the sunlight; a tight obstruction in my chest seemed to be dissolving. I thought that Chris and Chrissie were more shocked than they were letting on, but the fact that they were still there on either side of me, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from me as though I were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more to me than I could ever tell them. (Of course, I know I haven't mentioned Sian here, but I think it's pretty obvious where she would stand here, isn't it?)

" ... and evasive enchantments generally," concluded Chris. "Well, at least you know one lesson you and Sian'll be having this year, that's one more than Chrissie and me. I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come?"

"Can't be long now, it's been a month," said Chrissie.

"Hang on," I said, as another part of the previous night's conversation came back to me. "I think Crighton said our O.W.L. results will be arriving today."

At these words, Chris let go of me, jumped up and marched to the door.

"Where are you going?" Chrissie asked him.

Chris turned to face Chrissie at the door and said, "To tell Sian, of course. You know she's going to freak out when she hears this." Then he turned and left.

When I arrived downstairs in the kitchen ten minutes later, fully dressed and carrying my breakfast tray, it was to find Sian in a state of great agitation, pacing nervously in front of the windows and glancing out of them; Chris and Keziah were sat at the table, watching her progress - as were my parents, who looked healthier, but by no means any less happier than when we last saw each other, who stood up and walked over to greet me. I handed my tray to Chrissie so I could hug them.

"Hello, Kiara," said Mum, whose hug was just as warm as her words.

"Hi, Mum. Daddy," I said, turning to hug him once Mum had let go of me. After my father had let me go, I said, grinning broadly at both of them, "Why didn't you two come and wake me?"

"Well, we didn't know you were here, Kiara," my father said. "Besides, your mother and I were up quite late this morning, for we were spending some time together in - "

"Er, I don't need to know what you two were doing, do I?" I asked, looking and feeling uncomfortable by this conversation.

"No, you do not, Kiara," said Mum, shooting a sharp look at my father. She then turned back to me and said, "So, what were you and Crighton doing last night, dear?"

"We went to bring back an old friend and colleague of Crighton's back to Dragon Mort," I said. "Her name's Arachne Beadu."

Both my parents were surprised by this news.

"Well, that's a name we haven't heard in a few years," said Mum. "How did you find her, Kiara?"

I hesitated, then said, "To be honest, Mum ... I'm not sure whether I like her or not ..."

My father nodded in understanding. "Yes, she can have that effect on people. Don't worry, Kiara. You'll find she can be quite pleasant when you get to know her. Just be sure to give her a piece of your mind if she tells you that you should be in Snake-Eyes."

 _"Daddy!"_ I said, shocked he would tell me this; but then I caught the teasing look in his eyes, and I shook my head mockingly and said, "Very funny." My father and mother shared a smirk as I silently chuckled. I then turned to Sian, who was still pacing nervously, and I said, "So, no mail come yet I take it, Sian?"

"Hmm?" said Sian distractedly, pausing in her pacing and turning to look at me. "Oh, no, no. Nothing yet. I'd have noticed if there was, wouldn't I? It's barely nine, there's still time ... and yet I can't help wondering ..." She resumed her pacing, and began speaking furiously: "I know I messed up Ancient Runes, for I definitely made one serious mistranslation. And the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back - "

"Sian, will you shut up, you're not the only one here who's nervous!" barked Chrissie. "And when you've got your eleven "Outstanding" O.W.L.s ..."

"Don't, don't, don't!" said Sian, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"

"No, you haven't. I'm sure you've done well," said Keziah reassuringly, but Sian ignored her, moaning piteously.

"What happens if we fail?" I asked the room at large, but it was again Sian who answered.

"We discuss our options with our Head of House, I asked Professor Darbus at the end of last term."

My stomach squirmed. I remember wishing I had eaten less breakfast.

"At Beauxbatons," said Ferdinand complacently, "we 'ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then - "

Ferdinand's words were drowned in a scream. Sian was peering through one of the high kitchen windows. Five black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

"They're definitely owls," said Chris hoarsely, he and Chrissie hurrying to join Sian at the window.

"And there are five of them," I said, hastening to Chris' other side.

"One for each of us," whispered Keziah, standing on Chrissie's other side.

"Oh no," Sian whispered, terrified. "Oh no ... oh no ... oh no ..."

She gripped the counter so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The owls were flying directly at Dawson Manor, five handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clearer as they flew lower towards the back of the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

"Oh _no_!" squealed Sian, as she opened the kitchen window with trembling hands. One, two, three, four, five, the owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All five of them lifted their right legs.

I moved forwards. The letter addressed to me was tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. I untied it with trembling fingers. To my left, Chris was untying his results swiftly, and next to him, Chrissie was fumbling with hers; to my right, both Sian and Keziah's hands were shaking, but Sian's shook so much that she made her whole owl tremble.

Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At last, I managed to detach the envelope. I slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

 _ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS_

 _Pass Grades:_

 _Outstanding (O)_

 _Exceeds Expectations (E)_

 _Acceptable (A)_

 _Fail Grades:_

 _Poor (P)_

 _Dreadful (D)_

 _Troll (T)_

 _KIARA NALA PRIDE-LANDER HAS ACHIEVED:_

 _Astronomy: A_

 _Care of Magical Creatures: E_

 _Charms: E_

 _Defence Against the Dark Arts: O_

 _Divination: P_

 _Herbology: E_

 _History of Magic: D_

 _Muggle Studies: A_

 _Potions: E_

 _Transfiguration: E_

I read the parchment through several times, my breathing becoming easier with each reading. It was all right: I had always known that I would fail Divination, and I had no chance of passing History of Magic, given that I had collapsed halfway through the examination, but I had passed everything else! I ran my finger down the grades ... I had passed well in Transfiguration and Herbology, I had even Exceeded Expectations at Potions! And best of all, I had achieved "Outstanding" in Defence Against the Dark Arts!

Around me, Chris, Chrissie and Keziah were discussing their grades.

"I got an "O" in Potions, a few "E"s here and there, two "A"s and one "P"," said Keziah brightly. "What about you, Chris?"

"I got an "O" in Arithmancy, many "E"s, and I got a "D" in History of Magic. Chrissie?"

"I got two "A"s and seven "E"s," said Chrissie. "And don't even ask me what my Divination result was!"

"That's more O.W.L.s than Tanya and Geri got put together," Sian said quietly, her back to me, speaking for the first time since she had noticed the owls. "Well done, Chrissie."

"And what about you, Sian?" Chris asked her. "How did you do?"

"I - not bad," Sian said in a small voice.

"Oh, come off it," said Chrissie, striding over to her and whipping her results out of her hand. "Yep - ten "Outstandings" and one "Exceeds Expectations" in Defence Against the Dark Arts." She looked at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

Sian shook her head, but I laughed.

"Well, our father's not going to let your results go, Sian. That's for sure," Chris teased. Sian glared at him, but said nothing.

"And why shouldn't he?" boomed my father's voice behind me; I hadn't realised that he and my mother were behind me until that moment. "It only means he's proud of you." My father's gaze then turned to me. "And how did you do, Kiara?"

Instead of answering, I passed my results to my mother, who took them, read them quickly and, once satisfied, she handed them to my father, who read through them slowly, his face conveying surprise at some of the things he saw. I watched apprehensively, waiting for the moment he would raised his head. What would he say? How would he react? Then, at last, he raised his head. His face was expressionless for a few moments. Then, a grin spread across his face and he swept me in his arms, holding me tight.

"Eight O.W.L.s!" my father yelled triumphantly. "And one of them just happens to be an "O" for Defence Against the Dark Arts!" My father then held me at arm's length, he and my mother both smiling warmly at me. "Well done, honey! Your mother and I are so proud of you!"

"Indeed we are," said Mum, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"Thanks, you guys," I said to them. I then turned to Chris and Chrissie, who were both smiling warmly at me.

"Well, we always knew you'd pass that one with flying colours, Kiara!" said Chris.

"Yeah, and we're all N.E.W.T. students now!" grinned Chrissie. "Are there any sausages left? I'm a little hungry and I want to eat to celebrate!"

I looked back down at my results. They were as good as I could have hoped for. I felt just one tiny twinge of regret ... this was the end of my ambition to become an Auror (of course, this was before I knew who would be teaching Potions that year, but we'll get to that). I had not secured the required Potions grade. I had known all along that I wouldn't, but I still felt a sinking in my stomach as I looked at the small black "E".

It was odd, really, seeing that it had been a Love Destroyer in disguise who had first told me I would make a good Auror, but somehow the idea had taken hold of me, and I couldn't really think of anything else I would like to be. Moreover, it had seemed the right destiny for me since I had heard the prophecy a month ago ... _neither can live while the other survives_ ... wouldn't I be living up to the prophecy, and giving myself the best chance of survival, if I joined those highly trained wizards whose job it was to find and kill Zira?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Dani's Detour**

 **KIARA**

I remained within the confines of Dawson Manor's garden over the next few weeks. I spent most of my days playing two-a-side Quidditch there (myself and Sian against Chris and Chrissie; Sian was dreadful and Chris good, so we were reasonably well-matched), but Sian would play with us when she could, for she was pulled away for some reason or other, and we wouldn't see her for a couple of hours, and when she came back she would look either frustrated or annoyed, and none of us would dare talk to her, knowing full what her temper's like, or she would appear exhausted yet happy, and she would be easy to converse with. Anyhoo, whenever Sian couldn't play with us, Merida took her place. My evenings were spent eating triple helpings of everything Sian put in front of me and spending time with the rest of the Dawsons and my parents.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths that were appearing almost daily in the _Squabbler_ in those days. Sometimes Sam and Mr Dawson brought home news before it even reached the paper. To my parents' and grandmothers' displeasure, my sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Timon Meers, who was looking gaunt and grim, his auburn hair streaked literally with silver, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

"There have been another couple of Stinger attacks," he announced, as Sian passed him with a large slice of birthday cake. "And they've found Ifu Kula's body in a shack down south. The Death Trail had been set over it - well, frankly, I'm surprised she stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Love Destroyers; Pumbaa's brother Okoro only managed a few days as far as I can remember."

"Yes, well," said my father, frowning, "perhaps we should talk about something diff - "

"Did you hear about Florence Foskett, Timon?" asked Sam, who was being piled with wine by Ferdinand. "The woman who ran - "

" - the ice-cream place in Brickabon Alley?" I interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach. "She used to give me free ice-creams. What's happened to her?"

"Dragged off, by the look of her place."

"Why?" asked Chrissie, while my parents and grandmothers pointedly glared at Sam.

"Who knows? She must've upset them, somehow. She was a good woman, Florence."

"Talking of Brickabon Alley," said Mr Dawson, "looks like Madam Wandwick's finally gone, too."

"The wand-maker?" said Merida, looking startled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sian pause in her eating.

"That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of a struggle. Seems like the Love Destroyers carried her off on Athena Amethyst Phoenixclaw's day off, although how they did it without her knowing, I'll never know - "

There was a sudden _clunk_ as Sian's spoon fell on her plate. We all looked at her; she looked at no one but stared at her own plate, her face expressionless. Then, quite suddenly, Sian stood up, startling everybody, and stormed out of the kitchen without a word to anybody.

We were all silent for a few moments, shocked by Sian's behaviour. Then Chris said, trying to get the conversation back on track, "But what will people do for wands now?"

"They'll make do with other makers," said Meers. "But Wandwick was one of the best, and if the other side has got her it's not so good for us."

The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, our letters and book lists arrived from Dragon Mort. Mine included a surprise: I had been made Quidditch Captain.

"That gives you equal status with Prefects!" cried Sian happily. "You can use our special bathroom now, and everything!"

"Wow, I remember when Kat wore one of these," said Chrissie, examining the badge with glee. "Kiara, this is so cool, you're my captain - if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha ..."

"Well done, sweetheart," said my father, looking at the badge and smiling at me proudly. "Following in my footsteps. Your mother and I are so proud of you."

"That we are," said Mum, coming up to my other side and kissing my cheek. "We knew ever since the first moment we saw you fly that you would be captain. Oh, how we have waited for this day!"

I ducked my head, both pleased and embarrassed by their praise. Fortunately, Sian decided to speak at that moment, taking the attention off of me for a second.

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Brickabon Alley much longer now we've got these," she sighed, looking back down at her own list. "We'll go on Saturday as long as our father doesn't have to go into work again. We're not going there without him."

"Sian, d'you honestly think She-You-Know's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" sniggered Chrissie.

"Foskett and Madam Wandwick went on holiday, did they?" said Sian, firing up at once. "If you think security's a laughing matter you can stay behind, while the rest of us go to Brickabon Alley without you - "

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Tanya and Geri's shop!" said Chrissie hastily.

"Then you just buck up your ideas, sister, before I call our mother and explain to her that you're too immature to come with us, and then you'll hear what she says!" said Sian angrily. "And that goes for returning to Dragon Mort, as well!"

Chrissie turned to stare incredulously at me as Sian snatched up a laundry basket and stormed out of the room.

"Blimey ... you can't even make a joke around here any more ..."

But Chrissie was careful not to be flippant about Zira over those next few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Sian, though she seemed quite tense at breakfast. Sam, who would be staying at home with Ferdinand (much to Chris, Sian Merida's and the other Dawons' - besides Chrissie's - pleasure), passed a full money-bag across the table to me.

"Where's mine?" demanded Chrissie at once, her eyes wide.

"That's already Kiara's, idiot," said Sam. "I called your grandmothers, Kiara, and together we got it out of your vault for you, because it's taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment, the fauns have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arlene Peacock had a Probity Probe stuck up her ... well, trust me, this way's easier."

"Thanks, Sam," I said, pocketing the gold.

"She is always so thoughtful," purred Ferdinand adoringly, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Chris mimed vomiting into his cereal behind Ferdinand. I choked over my cornflakes and Chrissie thumped me on the back.

It was an overcast, murky day. Two of the Ministry of Magic cars, in which I had ridden once before, were waiting for us in the driveway when we emerged from the house pulling on our cloaks.

"It's good Dad can get these again," said Chrissie appreciatively, stretching luxuriously in the back with Chris, Sian, Keziah, Ben and myself, as the cars moved smoothly away from Dawson Manor, my parents, Sam and Ferdinand waving from one of the front windows. Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack and Dave were in the other car.

"Don't get used to it, it's only because of Kiara," said Mr Dawson over his shoulder. He was in front with the Ministry driver. "She's been given top-grade security status. And we'll be joining up with additional security at the Witching Service, too."

I said nothing; I did not much fancy doing my shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. I had stowed my Invisibility Cloak in mu bag and felt that, if that was good enough for Crighton, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now I come to think of it, I was not sure the Ministry knew about my Cloak.

"Here you are, then," said the driver a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Queen Anne's Street and stopped outside the girls' public toilets. "We're to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?"

"A couple of hours, I expect," said Mr Dawson. "Ah, good, she's here!"

I imitated Mr Dawson and peered through the window; my heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the bathroom, but instead, the gigantic, black-haired form of Mina Wickes, the Dragon Mort gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of my face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

"Kiara!" she boomed, sweeping me into a bone-crushing hug the moment I stepped out of the car. "Noelani - Aureole, I mean - yeh should see her, Kiara, she's so happy ter be back in the open air - "

"Glad she's pleased," I said, grinning as I massaged my ribs. "We didn't know "security" meant you!"

"I know, jus' like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o' Aurors, but Crighton said I'd do," said Mina proudly, throwing out her chest and tucking her hands into her pockets. "Let's get goin', then - after yeh, Matt - "

The Witching Service was, for the first time in my memory, completely empty. Only Dizra the landlady, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. She looked up hopefully as we entered, but before she could speak, Mina said importantly, "Jus' passin' through today, Dizra, sure yeh understand. Dragon Mort business, yeh know."

Dizra nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Mina, the Dawsons and I walked through the bar towards the doors at the end. Mr Dawson twisted one of the doorknobs to the left, and when it opened, we found ourselves in the enormous, crowded, echoing, rushed hall of Fauntrotts. We dashed through the large crowd of people and out the front doors right into the heart of Brickabon Alley where we paused, looking around.

Once our eyes had adjusted and we saw the rest of the long winding street unfold before us, we saw that Brickabon Alley had changed. The artificial sunlight had gone, to be replaced by an impenetrable darkness, so that only the streetlamps were the only source of light visible to us. The colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients and caldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these sombre purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Love Destroyers known to be on the loose. Katalina Outsider was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florence Foskett's Ice-Cream Parlour. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been created outside Flourish and Blotts under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front. _Amulets: Effective Against Werewolves, Stingers and Inferi._

A seedy-looking witch was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passers-by.

"One for one of your girls, sir?" she called at Mr Dawson as we passed, leering at Merida. "Protect their pretty necks?"

"If I were on duty ..." said Mr Dawson, glaring angrily at the amulet seller.

"Yes, but don't go arresting anyone now, Dad, we're in a hurry," said Sian, nervously consulting a list. "I think we'd better do Sir Waldin's first, I want to pick up some new material in case I need to design a dress, and Chris is showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and I think you need new ones too, Kiara, for the arms are a bit too short for you - come one, everyone- "

"Sian, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Sir Waldin's," said Mr Dawson. "Why don't you, Chris, Chrissie, Kiara, Ben and Keziah go to Flourish and Blotts, and I'll go with the others t pick up everyone's school books?"

"I don't know," said Sian anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. "Mina, what do you - ?"

"Don't fret, yeh'll be fine with me, Sian," said Mina soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Sian did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, heading off with Mina, Chris, Chrissie, Ben, Keziah and I to Sir Waldin's, while Mr Dawson took Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack and Dave to Flourish and Blotts.

I noticed that many of the people who passed us had the same worried, anxious look as Sian, and that nobody stopped to talk any more; that shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o' us," said Mina, stopping outside Sir Waldin's and bending down to peer through the window. "I'll stand guard outside, all righ'?"

So Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Ben, Keziah and I entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, nut no sooner had the door swung shut behind us than we heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled purple and red.

" ... not a child in case you haven't noticed, Father. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping _alone_."

There was a tutting noise and a voice I recognised as that of Sir Waldin said, "Now, dear girl, your father's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own any more, it's nothing to do with being a child - "

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

A teenage girl with a pale, pointed face and white-blonde hair appeared from behind the rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. She strode to the mirror and examined herself; it was a few moments before she noticed Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Ben, Keziah and I reflected over her shoulder. Her light grey eyes narrowed.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Father, a Sackbrain and a traitor just walked in," said Dani Malty.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" said Sir Waldin, hurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop, either!" he added hastily, for Chris, Chrissie, Ben and I were still standing by the door with our wands out and were pointing them at Dani Malty.

Sian, who was standing slightly behind us, whispered, "No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it ..."

"She's right," said Keziah. "Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is walk away."

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic outside school, Dawson," Malty sneered at Sian. She then turned to Keziah, and said, "And you, have the Dawsons brainwashed you so much that they made you lose your touch? I would've thought you'd have taken a shot at me by now."

"That's quite enough!" said Sir Waldin sharply, looking over his shoulder for support. "Sir - please - "

Latchna Malty stepped out from behind the clothes rack.

"Put those away," he said coldly to Chris, Chrissie, Ben and I. "If you attack my daughter again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

"Really?" I said, taking a step forwards and gazing into the smoothly arrogant face that, for all its pallor, still resembled his sister's. I was as tall as he was. "Going to get a few Love Destroyer pals to do us in, are you?"

Sir Waldin gave a shocked gasp and clutched at his heart.

"Really, you shouldn't accuse - dangerous thing to say - wands away, please!"

But I did not lower my wand. Latchna Malty smiled unpleasantly.

"I see that being Crighton's favourite has given you a false sense of security, Kiara Pride-Lander. But Crighton won't always be there to protect you."

I looked mockingly all around the shop.

"Wow ... look at that ... she's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a wife!"

Malty made an angry movement towards me, but stumbled over her overlong robe. Chris, Chrissie and Ben all laughed loudly.

"Don't you dare talk to my father like that, Pride-Lander!" Malty snarled.

"It's all right, Dani," said Latchna, restraining her with his thin white fingers upon her shoulder. "I expect Pride-Lander will be reunited with Pumbaa before I am reunited with my darling Narissa."

I raised my wand higher.

"Kiara, no!" Sian moaned, grabbing my arm and attempting to push it down by my side. "Think ... you mustn't ... you'll be in such trouble ..."

Sir Wadin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn't. He bent towards Malty, who was still glaring at me.

"I think this left sleeved could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just - "

"Ouch!" bellowed Malty, slapping her hand away. "Watch where you're putting your pins, man! Father - I don't think I want these any more - "

She pulled the robes over her head and threw them on to the floor at Sir Waldin's feet.

"You're right, Dani," said Latchna, with a contemptuous glance at Sian and Keziah, who didn't dare meet his eye, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here ... we'll do better at Trimmings' Dress Robes."

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malty taking care to bang as hard as she could into Keziah on the way out.

"Well, _really_!" said Sir Waldin, snatching up the fallen robes and moving the tip of his wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed the dust.

He was distracted all the way through the fitting of mine and Keziah's new robes, almost forgot to give Sian the material she had asked for, and when he finally bowed us out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of us.

"Got ev'rything?" said Mina brightly when we reappeared at her side.

"Just about," I said. "Did you see the Maltys?"

"Yeah," said Mina unconcerned. "Bu' they wouldn' dare make trouble in the middle o' Brickabon Alley, Kiara, don' worry abou' them."

Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Ben, Keziah and I exchanged looks, but before we could disabuse Mina of this comfortable notion Mr Dawson, Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack and Dave appeared, all of them clutching heavy packages of books.

"Everyone OK?" said Mr Dawson. "Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Tanya and Geri's - stick close, now - "

Neither Chrissie nor myself bought any ingredients at the apothecary, seeing that we - foolishly thought - were no longer studying Potions, but we, along with Chris, did buy large boxes of owl nuts for Harold, Piggledon and Cattonia. Then, with Sian checking her watch every minute or so, we headed further along the street in search of Fangs' Friendly Funnies, the joke shop run by Tanya and Geri.

"We really haven't got too long," Sian said. "So we'll just have a quick look around and then back to the cars, we must be close, there's number ninety-two ... ninety-four ..."

 _"Whoa,"_ said Chrissie, stopping in her tracks.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around us, Tanya and Geri's windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passers-by were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced and shrieked; my eyes began to water just by looking at it. The right-hand window was covered by a gigantic poster, that was dark blue and emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

 _Why Are You Worrying About the Evil Scary Lady (She-You-Know)?_

 _You SHOULD Be Worrying About_

 _THE DARK SLUDGE DEUCE -_

 _the Diarrhoea Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!_

I started to laugh. I heard a weak sort of moan beside me and looked round to see Sian gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved, silently mouthing the name, "the Dark Sludge Deuce."

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" she whispered.

"No they won't!" said Chrissie, who like me was laughing. "This is brilliant!"

And Chrissie and I led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; I could not get near the shelves. I stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: here were the Gross Body Boxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Dragon Mort; I noticed that the Bloody-Nose Bonbons were the most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick quills, the cheapest merely turning into rubber ducks or pairs of pants when waved; the most expensive of which pricking the heads and fingers of the unwary user; there were also proper quills there, which were, of course, enchanted, and which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd and I pushed my way towards the centre, where a gaggle of delighted ten-year-olds were watching painted men and women climb ladders, or else fall into a snake pit when stopping on a wrong numbered tile, which were all set on a box that read: Reusable Snakes and Ladders - Climb High or Else Watch Them Be Eaten Alive By Snakes!

"Virtual Reality Charms ..."

Sian had nudged to squeeze through to a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a number of images that were changing every five seconds, and a book next to it that contained various worlds to explore.

 _" "One simple incantation and you will be swept into a world that you have always dreamed of living in, which will last for thirty minutes, and will revolve however you want your daydream to go. It's easy to fit into the average lesson and is virtually undetectable (side-effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens."_ You know," said Sian, looking up at me, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Sian," said a voice behind us, "you can have one for free."

A beaming Tanya stood before us, wearing bright-blue robes that clashed well with her brown hair.

"How are you, Kiara?" We shook hands. "Do you like what you've seen so far?"

"Yes, very, and I am well," I said. "So, it looks like business is going great. Sian said you had a real flair for business ..."

"Oh, she did, did she?" said Tanya teasingly. Sian looked unabashed at the sly look Tanya gave her.

"Well, I suppose you could say that," she said in an unconvincingly modest voice, for I could tell she was smug. Sian rolled her eyes at Tanya's silliness. Tanya sniggered and said, "Come on, Kiara, I'll give you a tour."

I left Sian standing by the Virtual Realty Charms and followed Tanya towards the back of the shop, where I saw a stand of card and rope tricks.

"Muggle magic tricks!" said Tanya happily, pointing them out. "For freaks like Uncle Matt, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties ... oh, here's Geri ..."

Tanya's twin shook my hand energetically.

"Giving her the tour? Come through to the back, Kiara, that's where we're making the real money - _pocket anything, you, and you'll pay in more than Galleons_!" she added warningly to a small girl who hastily whipped her hand out of the tub labelled: Edible Death Trails - They'll Make Anyone Sick!

Geri pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and I saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued.

"We've just developed this more serious lines," said Tanya. "Funny how it happened ..."

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a simple Shield Charm," said Geri. "Course, they didn't have you teaching them, Kiara."

"That's right ... well, we thought Shield Gloves would be a bit of a laugh. You know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing them, and watch her face when you wave your hand to flick it away. But the Ministry bought five hundred pairs for all its support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!"

"So we've expanded into a large range of Shield Hats, Shield Scarves ..."

" ... I mean, they wouldn't help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes ..."

"And then we thought we'd get into the whole area of Defence Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money-spinner," continued Geri enthusiastically. "This is cool. Look, Crystal Blinders. Point them at your enemy and the light that shines from them leaves your enemy temporarily blinded for five minutes. Handy, if you want to make a quick getaway."

"And our Music Mayhems are just walking off the shelves, look," said Tanya, pointing at a number of weird-looking bronze mini-gramophone objects that were indeed attempting to scurry out of sight. "You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and blast loud music out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one."

"Handy," I said, impressed.

"Here," said Geri, catching a couple and throwing them to me.

A young wizard with short blond hair poked his head round the curtain; I saw that he too was wearing the bright-blue staff robes.

"There's a customer out here looking for some joke parchment, Miss Fang and Miss Fang," he said.

I remember finding it very odd to hear Tanya and Geri called "Miss Fang", but they took it in their stride.

"Right you are, Will, I'm coming," said Geri promptly. "Kiara, you help yourself to anything you want, all right? No charge."

"I can't do that," I said, as I reached for my money-bag to pay for the Music Mayhems.

"You don't pay here," said Tanya firmly, waving away my gold.

"But - "

"You gave us our start-up loan, we haven't forgotten," said Geri sternly. "Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask."

Geri swept off through the curtain to help with the customers and Tanya led me back into the main part of the shop to find Sian, along with Keziah, Kestrel and Merida, were all poring over the Virtual Reality Charms.

"Haven't you girls found our special Wonder Witch products yet?" asked Tanya. "Follow me, ladies ..."

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Sian, Keziah, Kestrel and Merida all hung back, looking wary.

"There you go," said Tanya proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

Merida raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Do they work."

"Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question - "

" - and the attractiveness of the girl," said Geri, reappearing suddenly at our side. "But we're not selling them to our cousins," she added, suddenly stern, as Chris meandered his way over to us, "not when we hear Rickers here has got himself a girl at last - "

"And so what if I have? Last I checked, my dating life had nothing to do with you," said Chris calmly. Sian smirked at this comment and moved away.

"That may be, but you can't stop us from asking," said Tanya. "So, tell us, Chris, are you or are you not currently going out with a girl called Dena Wright?"

Before Chris could answer, a loud shriek caught our ears. We spun around quickly, and what we saw grabbed our attention. The whole shop went quiet.

Some douchebag had tried to touch Sian's rear by the looks of things, and Sian had quickly retaliated. She spun around, clenched the offending arm tightly and held it high above his head. The guy was grinning cockily at her, but Sian was glaring furiously at him, her breathing heavy, her eyes a storming sea of emotions. When she spoke next, her voice was low and deadly.

"I warned you to back off once before, but you didn't really get the point ... so let me make myself ... perfectly clear here ... Back ... the hell ... OFF!" Then she swung her right leg up and kicked him hard in the crotch. The guy immediately let go of Sian's hand and fell to the floor in a heap.

You could practically hear everyone in the room murmuring, "Oooh!" I know I could. As I looked around, different reactions met my gaze: there were murmurs of disapproval, shakes of many heads and glares pointed to the man lying on the floor, though I did see a few men unconsciously cross their legs. Sian was still glaring down at her attacker, but then she noticed the murmurings around her. Her face quickly became flushed as she said shakily, "I have to get out of here ..." and she made for the door. Across the room, I saw Mr Dawson go after her.

Our attention then went back to the groaning boy on the floor, who none of us had any sympathy for. Tanya then called to Will, "Will, escort this boy to the door and make sure he knows not to come back, will you?" Will nodded once, and walked over to the groaning boy, pulled him roughly up and half-dragged him to the door, chucked him out onto the street beyond and yelled, "And don't bother coming back!" He then slammed the door in the man's face.

We were all silent for a few minutes, all of us in the shop were still in shock by what we had just witnessed. That someone had tried to take advantage of someone like that? In public? And to _Sian_ , of all people? Despicable - that was the word for it! The silence dragged on, until Keziah said, making us all jump, "Hey, Geri, what are those?"

As soon as Keziah said those words, people remembered where they were, and slowly we all started to move again, trying to find some enjoyment in the place, which, as you can imagine was difficult, as the air was still tense by the scene we had just witnessed.

We turned around again, and Keziah was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

"Pygmy Puffs," said Geri. "Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough." She then turned back to Chris. "So, what were you saying about Dena Wright, Chris?"

"Nothing," said Chris. "Well, not to you, anyway. Who I date is my business, so don't you go poking your nose in!"

"Chris, I'm just saying there are better girls out there - "

"So what if there are?" Chris shouted. "I'm free to look around, aren't I? It's my life and Dena's my choice, so suck it up!"

Keziah interrupted them by cooing, "Aww, they're so cute!" over the Pygmy Puffs, and Chrissie, who had just appeared at Geri's elbow, laden with merchandise.

"That's three Galleons, nine Sickles and a Knut," said Tanya, examining the many boxes in Chrissie's arms. "Cough up!"

"I'm your cousin!"

"And that's our stuff you're nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles. I'll knock off the Knut."

Chrissie was about to voice her outrage at Tanya, when Mr Dawson reappeared, an arm hung loosely around Sian who, judging by how red her eyes were, had been crying. She certainly seemed calmer, but every now and again the occasional sob would wrack through her body. Around us, people cast Sian pitying looks, which she ignored. She was staring at the ground, avoiding our eyes. I was the first one to approach her.

"Are you all right, Sian?" I asked, hugging her rather awkwardly. Sian nodded her head rapidly, giving me a fleeting smile when I let go of her.

"Course she is, she's a Dawson," said Mr Dawson firmly. "Strong enough to get through anything us lot, aren't we?" Sian let out a sly giggle, which Mr Dawson noticed. "Ha! See? She'll be fine!" He kissed his firstborn on the top of her head, then let her go.

Sian looked nervously at Tanya and Geri, but before she could apologise, Tanya said, "Don't you dare apologise, Sian, for in our eyes you did nothing wrong!"

Confusion struck Sian then. "But - I just - "

"Sian, that pervert got what was coming to him," said Geri firmly. "You did the right thing, cousin, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. It's what any of us would have done. And we've just had him banned from the shop."

Sian looked shocked. "You didn't have to do that for - "

"Sian, family or not, a boy tried to take advantage of someone, who was not only a customer, but someone who was also underage. He had no right to do that. We had to do what was right." Tanya smiled slightly at Sian. "Besides, no matter how many times we argue, we're still just family, and family always helps family - "

"Couldn't help me enough to give me some of your stuff," Chrissie muttered. Geri turned on her.

"Chrissie, don't you think that this is far more important than you and your love for our stock?"

That shut Chrissie up, and it also made her bow her head in shame. Geri then turned back to Sian, her tone and expression nicer. "No matter what, Sian, we're still family. Never forget that."

Sian smiled at them reassuringly. "Thanks, girls."

Tanya and Geri smiled kindly at Sian before they went to help Keziah with a Pygmy Puff, and Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I momentarily had an unimpeded view out of the window. Dani Malty was hurrying up the street alone. As she passed Fangs' Friendly Funnies, she glanced over her shoulder. Seconds later, she moved beyond the scope of the window and we lost sight of her.

"Wonder where her daddy is?" I said, frowning.

"Given him the slip, by the looks of it," said Chris.

"Why, though?" said Sian.

I said nothing; I was thinking too hard. Latchna Malty would not have let his precious daughter out of his sight willingly; Malty must have made a real effort to free herself from his clutches. Knowing and loathing Malty the way I did, I was sure the reason could not be innocent.

I glanced around. Tanya and Geri were still with Keziah, looking at the Pygmy Puffs. Mr Dawson was delightedly examining a pack of Muggle playing cards. the rest of the Dawsons were scattered around the shop, each absorbed in a different product. On the other side of the glass, Mina was standing with her back to us, looking up and down the street.

"Get under here, quick," I said, pulling the Invisibility Cloak out of my bag.

"Oh - I don't know, Kiara," said Sian, looking uncertainly towards her father.

"Come on!" said Chrissie.

Sian hesitated for a second longer, then ducked under the Cloak with myself, Chris and Chrissie. nobody noticed us vanish; they were all too interested in Tanya and Geri's products. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I squeezed our way out of the door as quickly as we could, but by the time we had gained the street, Malty had disappeared just as successfully as we had.

"She was going in that direction," I murmured as quietly as possible, so that the humming Mina would not hear us. "C'mon."

We scurried along, peering left and right, through shop windows and doors, until Sian pointed ahead.

"That's her, isn't it?" she whispered. "Turning left?"

"Big surprise," whispered Chris.

For Malty had glanced round, then slid into Dark Avenue and out of sight.

"Quick, or we'll lose her," I said, speeding up.

"Our feet'll be seen!" said Sian anxiously, as the Cloak flapped a little around our ankles; it was much more difficult for my three best friends and I to hide under it nowadays.

"It doesn't matter," I said impatiently, "just hurry!"

But Dark Avenue, the side street devoted to the Dark Arts, looked completely deserted. We peered into windows as we passed, but none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all. I supposed it was a bit of a giveaway in these dangerous and suspicious times to buy Dark artefacts - or at least, to be seen buying them.

Sian gave my arm a hard pinch.

"Ouch!"

"Shh! Look! She's in there!" she breathed in my ear.

We had drawn level with the only shop in Dark Avenue that I had ever visited: Borrin and Burka, which sold a wide variety of sinister objects. There in the midst of the cases full of skulls and old bottles stood Dani Malty with her back to us, just visible beyond the very same large black cabinet in which I had once hidden in to avoid Malty, her cousin and her mother. Judging by the movements of Malty's hands she was talking animatedly. The proprietor of the shop, Miss Borrin, an oily-haired, stooping woman, stood facing Malty. She was wearing a curious expression of mingled resentment and fear.

"If only we could hear what they were saying!" said Sian.

"We can!" said Chrissie excitedly. "Hang on - damn - "

She dropped a few of the boxes she was still clutching as she fumbled with the smallest.

"Electronic Ears, look!"

"Fantastic!" said Sian, as Chrissie gave her, Chris and I a hearing aid before she gave herself one. We put them in our ears, before Chrissie took out the dial that went with them, switched it on and pointed it at the door. "Oh, I hope the door isn't Imperturbable - "

"No!" said Chrissie gleefully. "Listen!"

We fell silent and listened intently to what was going on beyond the door by the Electronic Ears, through which Malty's voice could be heard loud and clear, as though a radio had been turned on.

" ... you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," said Borrin, in a tone that suggested she was unwilling to commit herself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," said Malty. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

I saw Borrin lick her lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" said Malty, and I knew, just by her tone, that Malty was sneering. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

She moved towards Borrin and was blocked from view by the cabinet. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I shuffled sideways to try and keep her in sight, but all we could see was Borrin, looking very frightened.

"Tell anyone," said Malty, "and there will be retribution. You know Rasputin Silverfur? He's a family friend, he'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for - "

"I'll decide that," said Malty. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep _that_ one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little woman, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not ... miss."

Borrin made a curtsey as deep as the one I had once seen her give Narissa Malty.

"Not a word to anyone, Borrin, and that includes my father, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borrin, curtseying again.

Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malty stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with herself. She passed so close to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I that we felt the Cloak flutter around our knees again. Inside the shop, Borrin remained frozen; her unctuous smile had vanished; she looked terrified.

"What was that about?" whispered Chrissie, switching the dial off as we took out hearing aids out of our ears.

"Dunno," I said, thinking hard. "She wants something mended ... and she wants to reserve something in there ... could you see what she pointed at when she said "that one"?"

"No, she was behind that cabinet - "

"You three stay here," whispered Chris.

"What are you - ?"

"Chris, where are you - ?"

But Chris had already ducked out from under the Cloak. He checked his hair in the reflection of the glass, then marched into the shop, setting the bell tinkling again.

"He's going to crash and burn in there," Sian murmured, shaking her head sadly, as she, Chrissie and I stuck our hearing aids back in our ears, and Chrissie flicked the dial back on again.

"Hello, horrible morning, isn't it?" Chris said brightly to Borrin, who did not answer, but cast him a suspicious look. Humming cheerily, Chris strolled through the jumble of objects on display.

"Is this pocket-watch for sale?" he asked, pausing beside a glass-fronted case.

"If you've got seven hundred and fifty Galleons," said Borrin coldly.

"Oh - er - no, I haven't got quite that much," said Chris, walking on. "And ... what about this nice - er - skull."

"Sixteen Galleons."

"So it's for sale, then? It isn't being ... kept for anyone?"

Borrin squinted at him. I had the nasty feeling she knew exactly what Chris was up to. Apparently Chris felt he had been rumbled, too, because he suddenly threw caution to the winds.

"the thing is, that - er - girl who was in here just now, Dani Malty, well, she's a friend of mine, and I wanted to get her a birthday present, but if she's already reserved anything I obviously don't want to get her the same thing, so ... um ..."

It was a pretty lame story in my opinion, and apparently, Borrin thought so too."

"Out," she said sharply. "Get out!"

Chris did not wait to be asked twice, but hurried off to the door with Borrin at his heels. As the bell tinkled again, Borrin slammed the door behind him and put up the _"Closed"_ sign.

"Ah, well," said Chrissie, throwing the Cloak back over Chris. "Worthy try, but you were a bit obvious - "

"Yeah," said Sian, "even I could have done a better job than you, Rickers - "

"Well, next time you two can both show me how it's done, you Mistresses of Mystery!" he snapped.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie bickered all the way back to Fangs' Friendly funnies, where they were forced to stop so that we could dodge undetected around a very anxious-looking Mr Dawson and Mina, who had clearly noticed our absence. Once in the shop, I whipped off the Invisibility Cloak, hid it in my bag, and joined in with the other three when we insisted, in answer to Mr Dawson's accusations, that we had been in the back room all along, and that he could have not looked properly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **The Spider Club**

 **KIARA**

I spent a lot of the last week of those holidays pondering the meaning of Malty's behaviour in Dark Avenue. What disturbed me most was the satisfied look on Malty's face as she left the shop. Nothing that made Malty look that happy could be good news. To my slight annoyance, however, neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie seemed quite as curious about Malty's activities as I was; or at least, they seemed to get bored of discussing it after a few days.

"Yes, I've already agreed it was fishy, Kiara," said Sian a little impatiently. She was sat on a couch in the smallest attic with her feet up on it, too, and had only grudgingly looked up from her new copy of _Advanced Rune Translation_. "But haven't we agreed there could be a lot of explanations?"

"Maybe she's broken her hand of glory?" said Chrissie vaguely, as she attempted to straighten her broomstick's bent tail twigs. "Remember that shrivelled-up arm Malty had?"

"But what about when she said "Don't forget to keep _that_ one safe"?" I asked for the umpteenth time. "That sounded to me like Borrin's got another one of the broken objects, and Malty wants both."

"You reckon?" said Chris, who was sat on the wooden steps, carving something new.

"Yeah, I do," I said. When neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie answered, I said, "Malty's mother's in Azkaban. Don't you think Malty'd like revenge?"

Chrissie looked up, blinking.

"Malty, revenge? What can she do about it?"

"That's my point, I don't know!" I said, frustrated. "But she's up to something and I think we should take it seriously. Her mother's a Love Destroyer and - "

I broke off, my eyes fixed on the window behind Sian, my mouth open. A startling thought had just occurred to me.

"Kiara?" said Sian in an anxious voice. "What's wrong?"

"Your scar's not hurting again, is it?" asked Chrissie nervously.

"Are you all right, sunshine?" Chris asked gently, which made Sian, Chrissie and I turn to him, for he had never called me that before. Chris must have realised what he had said, for his face flushed and he bowed his head. I actually quite liked it and, forgetting about Malty for a moment, I felt my face go red and a soft smile crossed my lips - a smile, I would later realise, I would use only for him. I noticed Sian and Chrissie glancing from myself to Chris and back again, sharing a secret smile, which I had taken no notice of before, but for some reason I found myself getting annoyed at. Sian, realising the annoyed look on my face, said quickly, "So, what are your thoughts, Kiara? Do you feel ill?"

That made me remember what I had come to realise about Malty, so I said slowly, "She's a Love Destroyer! Malty's replaced her mother as a Love Destroyer!"

There was a silence, then Chrissie erupted in laughter.

" _Malty?_ She's sixteen, Kiara! You think She-You-Know would let _Malty_ join?"

"It seems very unlikely, Kiara," said Sian, in a repressive sort of voice. "After all, she's not seventeen yet ... why would Zira take someone underage into her midst, when she has more experienced witches and wizards doing her dirty work for her? I mean, what could she even do?"

"Sian's got a point, Kiara," said Chris. "Besides, what makes you think - ?"

"In Sir Waldin's, he didn't touch her, but Malty yelled and jerked her arm away from him when he went to roll up his sleeve. It was her left arm. She's been branded with the Death Trail."

Chris, Sian and Chrissie looked at each other.

"Well ..." said Chrissie, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"I don't know ..." said Chris slowly, shaking his head.

"I think she just wanted to get out of there, Kiara," said Sian.

"She showed Borrin something we couldn't see," I pressed on stubbornly. "Something that seriously scared Borrin. It was the Trail, I know it - she was showing Borrin who she was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borrin took her!"

Chris, Sian and Chrissie exchanged another look.

"I'm not sure, Kiara ..."

"It doesn't make sense ..."

"Yeah, I still don't reckon She-You-Know would let Malty join ..."

Annoyed, but absolutely convinced I was right, I snatched up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes that I had brought up there so I could take them down to the kitchen later and left the room; both Sian and my mother had been urging us for days not to leave our washing and packing until the last minute. I had just stepped off the last step of the spiral staircase that led up to the family wing of the house when I bumped into Merida, who looked like she was returning to her own room, seeing as she was carrying a pile of freshly laundered clothes.

"I wouldn't go in the kitchen just now," she warned me. "There's a lot of Phlegm around."

"I'll be careful not to slip in it," I smiled.

Sure enough, when I entered the kitchen it was to find Ferdinand sitting at the kitchen table, talking about plans he and Same had already made for the wedding, while my father sat next to him, thoroughly engrossed in the conversation, and my mother was pottering about the kitchen, looking at the little notes Sian had pinned up to help her find everything, or else instructions on how to cook certain meals.

" ... Sam and I 'ave decided on only three bridesmaids, Kat, Merida and Kestrel. Simon will, of course, be the page boy. Sam wants ze girls to be dressed in pale gold ... she says it will contrast well with ze darkness of zair 'air - "

"Ah, Kiara!" said my father suddenly, cutting across Ferdinand's monologue. "Good, I wanted to explain about the security arrangements for the journey to Dragon Mort tomorrow We've got Ministry cars again, and there will be Aurors waiting at the Sub House - "

"Is Todd going to be there?" I asked, handing my Quidditch things over to Mum as I spoke.

"No, I don't think so, she's been stationed somewhere else from what Matt said."

"She 'as let 'erself go, zat Todd," mused Ferdinand, examining his own handsome reflection in the back of a teaspoon. "A big mistake, if you ask - "

"Excuse me, but Todd happens to be one of our closest friends, thank you very much," Mum said tartly, cutting across Ferdinand. "You'd better get on, Kiara. Sian and I want the trunks ready tonight, if possible, so we don't have a last-minute scramble on our hands."

And in fact, our departure the following morning was smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of Dawson Manor to find us waiting: trunks packed, Sian's cat, Lucifer, safely enclosed in his travelling basket, and Harold, Chris and Chrissie's owls, Cattonia and Piggledon, and Keziah's new Pygmy Puff, Fusia, in cages.

"Au revoir, Kiara," said Ferdinand throatily, kissing me goodbye. Chrissie hurried forwards, looking hopeful, but Chris stuck out his foot and Chrissie fell, sprawling in the dust at Ferdinand's feet. Furious, red-faced and dirt-spattered, she hurried into the car without saying goodbye.

There was no cheerful Mina waiting for us at the entrance to the Sub House. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forwards the moment the cars stopped and, flanking our party, marched us quickly towards the entrance.

"Through the barrier quickly, now," said my father, in a commanding voice. "My daughter first, I think, and she'd better go with - "

He looked enquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly, seized my upper arm and attempted to steer me towards the barrier to the Sub House.

"I can walk, thanks," I said irritably, jerking my arm out of the Auror's grip. I pushed my trolley directly at the solid grate, ignoring my silent companion, and slid through it easily on to the water slide, which led me, within seconds, to the Sun House, where the eight large, aqua-blue submarines were attached to cranes, which were attached to pulley systems, which were dropped into a pool, which was part of the ocean.

Keziah and the Dawsons joined me within seconds. Without waiting to consult my grim-faced Auror, I turned to look for my grandmothers, and I found them standing by the ramp leading to the submarines. I waved to them and Keziah, the Dawsons, my parents, the two grim-faced Aurors and I went to greet them.

"Hello, Kiara," said Grandmother Sarabi, hugging me as soon as she saw me. "Now, we have a few minutes before you leave, and I have a few things to say before you do. You'll be spending Christmas with the Dawsons. It's already been arranged, but Sarafina and I will be coming over there on Christmas Eve, and we'll be spending Christmas Day with you." I looked at Grandmother Sarafina, who nodded her head in confirmation. I smiled at her, and then turned her back to Grandmother Sarabi, who continued, "I also want you to know that you don't have to write to me any more, unless you want to."

I looked at her in surprise. "Are you sure, Grandmother Sarabi?"

She smiled at me gently and said, "Kiara, you have your parents back in your life, who love you and want to hear from you. So don't worry about not writing to me, all right?"

I nodded at her and we hugged. When we let go, I turned around and faced my father, who was smiling warmly at me. "My mother's right, Kiara. If you need anything, or just want to ramble, you know where to find us."

"Thanks, Daddy," I said, hugging him tightly. As I held him, I looked over his shoulder and saw Mr Dawson, and that's when I remembered what I had to ask him about. I slowly let go of my father, went over to Mr Dawson and said, "Mr Dawson, can I have a word?"

"Of course," said Mr Dawson, who looked slightly surprised, but followed me out of earshot of the others nevertheless.

I had thought it through carefully and came to the conclusion that, if I were to tell anyone, Mr Dawson would be the right person; firstly, because he worked at the Ministry and was therefore in the best position to make further investigations, and secondly, because I thought that there was not too much risk of Mr Dawson exploding with anger.

I could see my father and the grim-faced Auror casting the pair of us suspicious looks as we moved away.

"When we were in Brickabon Alley - " I began, but Mr Dawson forestalled me with a grimace.

"Am I about to discover where you, Sian, Chris and Chrissie disappeared to while you were supposed to be in the back room of Tanya and Geri's shop?"

"How did you - ?"

"Kiara, please. You're talking to the man who practically raised Tanya and Geri.

"Er ... yeah, all right, we weren't in the back room."

"Very well, then, let's hear the worst."

"Well, we followed Dani Malty. We used my Invisibility Cloak."

"Did you have any particular reason for doing so, or was it a mere whim?"

"Because I thought Malty was up to something," I said, disregarding Mr Dawson's look of mingled exasperation and amusement. "She'd given her father the slip and I wanted to know why."

"Of course you did," said Mr Dawson, sounding resigned. "Well? Did you find out why?"

"She went into Borrin and Burka," I said, "and started bullying the woman in there, Borrin, to help her fix something. And she said she wanted Borrin to keep something else for her. She made it sound like it was the same kind of thing that needed fixing. Like they were a pair. And ..."

I took a deep breath.

"There's something else. We saw Malty jump about a mile when Sir Waldin tried to touch her left arm. I think she's been branded with the Death Trail. I think she's replaced her mother as a Love Destroyer."

Mr Dawson looked taken aback. After a moment he said, "Kiara, I doubt whether She-You-Know would allow a sixteen-year-old - "

"Does anyone really know what She-You-Know would or wouldn't do?" I asked angrily. "Mr Dawson, I'm sorry, but isn't it worth investigating? If Malty wants something fixing, and she needs to threaten Borrin to get it done, it's probably something Dark or dangerous, isn't it?"

"I doubt it, to be honest, Kiara," said Mr Dawson slowly. "You see, when Narissa Malty was arrested, we raided her house. We took away everything that might have been dangerous."

"I think you missed something," I said stubbornly.

"Well, maybe," said Mr Dawson, but I could tell that he was humouring me.

Just then, the five minute warning whistle sounded; around us, people were saying goodbye to their loved ones.

"Come on, I'm sure Simba, Nala and your grandmothers will want to say goodbye to you," said Mr Dawson, and we hurried back to them.

Grandmother Sarafina was the first to greet me.

"Take care of yourself, now," she said, hugging me.

"I will, Grandmother Sarafina," I said, hugging her back. I then turned to my mother, who hugged me, too.

"Have a good term, try to stay out of trouble and be good," she said.

I giggled slightly. "Yes, Mum." We let go of each other, and I turned to face my father, who enveloped me in his strong arms.

"Write to us if you need to ... and be safe," he said into my hair; I felt my eyes stinging, but I managed to hold back the tears.

"I will, Daddy," I told him. He kissed my head gently, then let me go. I then turned to Grandmother Sarabi, who hugged me, stroking my hair gently.

"We'll see you soon, sweetie," she said. I nodded and we let go. I then went with the Dawsons and climbed the ramp to the subs with the Dawsons and Keziah. When we reached the top, I turned to Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who weren't going to the Dawsons' Special Sub.

"Aren't you coming this way?" I asked them, confused as to why there were going to a different sub.

"We can't, Kiara," said Sian, looking apologetic. "Chris, Chrissie and I have to go to the Prefect compartment in the fifth-year sub with Keziah and then patrol the subs for a bit."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," I said.

"You'll see us later, though," said Chrissie, flashing me a grim smile.

"Not me," said Chris. Sian, Chrissie and I stared at him.

"Why not, Chris?" I said.

"Oh, I said I'd meet up with Dena," he said brightly, "but I'll see you at the feast, though."

I watched Chris, Sian, Chrissie and Keziah walk away sadly, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a round-faced girl and a boy with long hair and large, misty eyes behind me.

"Come on," said Nikita. "Let's go and find seats together." I smiled at her, and together we went to the Dawsons Sub. We put our trunks in the blocks that were attached to the wall opposite the door of the sub. We then strapped ourselves in and waited as the subs were slowly moved along the chain, before one by one, they were dropped into the ocean. We then had to wait a couple of minutes more for the subs to line up and attach themselves to each other under the water, to make a kind of submarine train before we set off for Dragon Mort.

As I sat there, waiting for the subs to set off for Dragon Mort, I felt a slight twinge of annoyance at the fact that Chris would rather spend his time with Dena rather than with me. He knew me better then her, and we had been through a lot together; not to mention, but he was one of the few people who was near enough always by my side. But then, I reasoned with myself, I had no control over his life, and Chris had the right to see whoever he chose; he didn't have to hang out with Sian, Chrissie and I all the time. I then blinked as, with a shuddering jolt, the submarine train started moving, and to take my mind off Chris, I turned to Nikita and Lincoln sitting opposite me and asked them, "Nikita, Lincoln, how are you?"

"I'm all right," said Nikita, shrugging.

"Very well, thank you," said Lincoln. He was clutching a magazine to his chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside.

" _The Mystics_ sill going strong, then?" I asked, genuinely interested, for I felt a certain fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview for the previous year.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Lincoln happily.

"People will be staring at us, you know," said Nikita, indicating herself and Lincoln, "because we're with you, Kiara."

"They'll be staring at you because you were at the Ministry, too," I said. "Our little adventure there was all over the _Daily Squabbler_ , you must have seen it."

"Yes, I thought Granddad would be angry about all the publicity," said Nikita, "but he was really pleased. Says I'm starting to live up to my mum at long last. He bought me a new wand, look!"

She pulled it out and showed it to me.

"Cherry and unicorn hair," she said proudly. "We think it was one of the last Madam Wandwick ever sold, she vanished next day - oi, come back here, Tina!"

And she dived under the seat to retrieve her toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

"Are we still doing CA meetings this year, Kiara?" asked Lincoln, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of _The Mystics_.

"No point now we've got rid of Umber, is there?" I said. Nikita bumped her head against the seat as she emerged from under it. She looked most disappointed.

"I liked the CA! I learned loads from you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings, too," said Lincoln serenely. "It was like having friends."

This was one of those uncomfortable things Lincoln often said which made me feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment. Before I could respond, however, there was a disturbance outside our compartment door; a group of fourth-year boys were whispering eagerly on the other side of the door.

"You ask her!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!"

And one of them, a bold, cocky-looking lad with large dark eyes, a prominent chin and short black hair, opened the door and strode over to me.

"Hi, Kiara, I'm Ronnie, Ronnie Vaughn," he said loudly and confidently. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with _them_ ," he added in a stage whisper, indicating Nikita's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as she groped around for Tina, and Lincoln, who was now wearing his free Spectrespecs, which gave him the look of a demented, multi-coloured owl.

"They're friends of mine," I said coldly.

"Oh," said the boy, looking very surprised. "Oh. OK."

And he withdrew, shutting the door closed behind him.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," said Lincoln, once again displaying his knack for embarrassing honesty.

"You are cool," I said shortly. "None of them was at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me."

"That's a very nice thing to say," beamed Lincoln, and he pushed his Spectrespecs further up his nose and settled down to read _The Mystics_.

"We didn't face _her_ , though," said Nikita, emerging from under the seat with fluff and dust in her hair and a resigned-looking Tina in her hand. "You did. You should hear my granddad talk about you. _"That Kiara Pride-Lander's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!"_ He'd give anything to have you as a granddaughter ..."

I laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject to O.W.L. results as soon as I could. While Nikita recited her grades and wondered aloud whether she would be able to take a Transfiguration N.E.W.T. with only an "Acceptable", I watched her without really listening.

Nikita's childhood had been blighted by Zira just as much as mine had, but Nikita had no idea just how close she had come to having my destiny. The prophecy could have referred to either of us, yet, for her own inscrutable reasons, Zira had chosen to believe that I was the one meant.

I then started wondering what would have happened: had Zira chosen Nikita, it would have been Nikita sitting opposite me bearing the flame-shaped scar and the weight of the prophecy ... or would it? Would Nikita's father have given her the same protection mine gave me? Surely he would ... but would he have been able to stand between Zira and his daughter? Would there, then, have been no "Chosen One" at all? An empty seat where Nikita sat, and me, scarless, would not have had parents locked up for thirteen years, and would have led an entirely different life (read the first couple of chapters of the Mirror of Wishes to remind yourselves and understand what I'm saying here).

"You all right, Kiara? You look funny," said Nikita.

I started.

"Sorry - I - "

"Wrackspurt got you?" said Lincoln sympathetically, peering at me through his enormous, coloured spectacles.

"I - what?"

"A Wrackspurt ... they're invisible, they float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," he said. "I thought I felt one zooming around in here."

He flapped his hands at thin air as though beating off large invisible moths. Nikita and I caught each other's eyes and hastily began to talk of Quidditch.

The weather beyond the submarine windows was as patchy as it had been all summer; the ocean waters seemed to be darker one moment, and the next it would be bright and clear again. It was during one of the clear spells when Sian, Chrissie and Keziah entered our compartment at last.

"Wish the lunch table would hurry up, I'm starving," said Chrissie longingly, slipping into the seat beside me and rubbing her stomach. "Hi, Nikita, hi, Lincoln. Guess what?" she added, turning to me. "Malty's not doing Prefect duty. She's just sitting in her compartment with most of the other Snake-Eyes, we saw her when we passed."

I sat up straight, interested. It was not like Malty to pass up the chance to demonstrate her power as Prefect, which she had happily abused all the previous year.

"What did she do when she saw you?"

"The usual," said Chrissie indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like her, though, is it? Well - _that_ is - " she did the hand gesture again, "but why isn't she out there bullying first-years?"

"Dunno," I said, but my mind was racing. Didn't this look as though Malty had more important things on her mind that bullying younger students?

"Maybe she preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," said Sian. "Maybe being a Prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so," I said, "I think she's - "

But before I could expand on my theory, the compartment door opened again and a breathless third-year boy stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Nikita Bore and Kiara P-Pride-Lander," he faltered, as his eyes met mine and his face flushed pink. He was holding out two scrolls of parchment ted with violet ribbons. Perplexed, Nikita and I took the scroll addressed to reach of us and the boy stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Chrissie demanded, as I unrolled mine.

"An invitation," I said.

 _"Kiara,_

 _I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C of the sixth-year submarine._

 _Sincerely, Professor A.E.F. Beadu"_

"Who's Professor Beadu?" said Nikita, looking perplexedly at her own invitation.

"New teacher," I said. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does she want me for?" asked Nikita nervously, as though she were expecting detention.

"No idea," I said, which was not entirely true, though I had no proof yet that my hunch was correct. "Listen," I added, seized by a sudden brainwave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malty on the way, see what she's up to."

This idea, however, came to nothing: the compartments we passed were so loud with chatter that I couldn't make out a word anyone really said in the jumbled noise, both in and out of the Cloak. I stowed it regretfully back in my bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to wear it just to avoid all the staring, for every time I passed through a compartment, the talking stopped, and I could feel every single pair of eyes on me. The exception was Khan Chan, who started talking determinedly to his friend, Maurice, who was wearing a thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples still etched across his face. Smirking slightly, I pushed on.

When we reached compartment C in the sixth-year sub, we saw at once that we were not Beadu's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Beadu's welcome, I was the most warmly anticipated.

"Kiara, m'girl!" said Beadu, jumping up at the sight of me; she was so tall that she had to bend her back to prevent her head from touching the ceiling, which only made her look more spider-like. The light shining from the light above caught her hair and her eyes, and I also saw her fingers wriggled incessantly. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Miss Bore?"

Nikita nodded, looking scared. Beadu then raised her two index fingers, pointed them at us and drew us to her, as if we were two juicy flies that she had caught in her web and she was drawing us to her. Nikita and I then sat down opposite each other in the only two empty seats, which were nearest the walkway. I glanced around at our fellow guests. I recognised a Snake-Eyes from our year, a tall black girl with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-years, a boy and girl who I did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Beadu and looking as though he was not entirely sure how he got there, was Chris.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Beadu asked Nikita and I. "Biana Zamba is in your year, of course - "

Zamba did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, and nor did myself or Nikita: Lion-Hearts and Snake-Eyes students loathed each other on principle.

"This is Conrad Maguire, perhaps you've come across each other - ? No?"

Maguire, a large, wire-haired youth, raised a hand. Nikita nodded at him, but I glared at him, because he was the guy who had tried to touch Sian inappropriately in Tanya and Geri's joke shop.

" - and this is Marianne Belchly, I don't know whether - ?"

Belchly, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

" - and _this_ strapping young man tells me he knows you!" Beadu finished.

Chris grimaced at Nikita and I from next to Beadu's bony figure.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Beadu cosily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch, the food tables, as I remember it, is heavy on Liquorice Wands, and a poor old woman's digestive system isn't quite up to such things ... pheasant, Belchly?"

Belchly started, and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marianne here that I had the pleasure of teaching her Aunt Dalia," Beadu told Nikita and I, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding witch, outstanding, and her Order of Merlin most well-deserved. So you see much of your aunt, Marianne?"

Unfortunately, Belchly had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in her haste to answer Beadu she swallowed too fast, turned purple and began to choke.

 _"Anapneo,"_ said Beadu calmly, looking questionably at Belchly. "I doubt she would have helped the involvement for giving house-elves better lives without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose ..." said Belchly, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until she was sure that Beadu had finished with her. "Er ... she and my mum don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about ..."

Her voice trailed away as Beadu gave her a cold smile and turned to Maguire instead.

"Now, _you_ , Conrad," said Beadu, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Aunt Tadala, because she has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said Maguire. "We went with Betty Higgins and Rowena Scrimwazz - this was before she became Minister, obviously - "

"Ah, you know Betty and Rowena, too?" beamed Beadu, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belchly was missed out. "Now tell me ..."

It was as I suspected. All of us there seemed to have been invited because we were connected to somebody well-known or influential - all of us, except Chris. Zamba, who was interrogated after Maguire, turned out to have a famously handsome wizard for a father (from what I could make out, he had been married several times, each of his wives dying mysteriously and leaving him mounds of gold). Then it was Nikita's turn: that was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Nikita's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Katalina Outsider and a couple of Lover Destroyer cronies. At the end of Nikita's interview, I had the impression that Beadu was reserving judgement on Nikita, yet to see whether she had any of her parents' flair.

"And now," said Beadu, shifting slightly in her seat with the air of a compere introducing her star act. "Kiara Pride-Lander! _Where_ to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!"

She contemplated me for a moment as though I were a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "The "Chosen One", they're calling you now!"

I said nothing. Belchly, Maguire and Zamba were all staring at me.

"Of course," said Beadu, watching me closely, "there have been rumours for years ... I remember when - well - after that _terrible_ day - you survived - and then - well - let's not go into what happened to your parents ... people that good can never be evil. Tell me, Kiara," she said, a curious expression crossing her features, "have you been in contact with Simba and Nala?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "They're staying at Dawson Manor and ... and, yes, I was in contact with them after I learned of their innocence when they were at Dragon Mort."

"A long time, indeed," said Beadu, slightly impressed. "Tell me, how are you getting along with them?"

"I get along with them very well, ma'am," I said. "As I said, they're staying at Dawson Manor and we love each other very much. They've told me to send you their regards, by the way."

"Oh, excellent, excellent!" said Beadu happily. "I'm glad to know that they haven't forgotten their old Potions teacher." She chuckled slightly, and then her tone became serious again. "But back to the matter at hand - I remember that a few years after She-You-Know was defeated, that there was a rumour going around that you must have powers beyond the ordinary - "

Zamba gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused scepticism. An angry voice burst out from beside Beadu.

"Yeah, Zamba, because _you're_ so talented ... at posing ..."

"Oh dear!" chuckled Beadu comfortable, looking down at Chris who was glaring at Zamba from beside Beadu's bony figure. "You want to be careful, Biana! I saw this young man perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing his compartment! I wouldn't cross him!"

Zamba merely looked contemptuous.

"Anyway," said Beadu, turning back to me. " _Such_ rumours this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the _Squabbler_ has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes - but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was _quite_ a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!"

I could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, so I just nodded and said nothing. Beadu beamed at me.

"So modest, so modest, no wonder Crighton is so fond - you _were_ there, then? But the rest of the stories - so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe - this fabled prophecy, for instance - "

"We never heard a fabled prophecy," said Nikita, turning geranium pink as she said it.

"Actually, Nikita - " Chris began, but stopped quickly by the look I gave him. I didn't want anyone else to know about the contents of the prophecy, especially not a Snake-Eyes/ And I don't think Crighton would have found it wise for anyone else to have known, either.

"Yes, Mr Rickers?" Beadu said, looking between Chris and I with a look of mingled curiosity and great interest.

Chris stared at me for a few moments, and I was worried. Was he about to confess all about the prophecy? But to my relief, he seemed to understand what I was telling him, for he said, "Nothing, ma'am. Nikita's right. It's just the _Squabbler_ making things up as always." I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at his words.

"Hmm ..." said Beadu, who did not look thoroughly convinced at Chris' words. "So ... you were both there too, were you?" she said slowly, with great interest, looking from Chris to Nikita, but both of them sat clamlike before her encouraging smile. "Yes ... well ... it is true that the _Squabbler_ often exaggerates, of course ..." Beadu continued, sounding a little disappointed. "I remember dear Glen telling me - Glen Johnson, I mean, of course, Captain of Lancashire - "

She meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but I had the distinct impression that Beadu had not finished with me, not to mention that she had not been convinced by Nikita and Chris.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Beadu had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what she called the "Spider Club" at Dragon Mort. I could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. At last, when the lamp seemed to shine more brightly than usual, Beadu looked out the window and saw that the ocean waters were completely inky black, which could only mean that night had fallen.

"Good gracious, it's dark already! I didn't notice how dark the water was turning! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. Maguire, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails - Kiara, Biana - any time you're passing. Same goes for you, sir," she twinkled at Chris. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

As she pushed past me once we were in the next compartment, Zamba shot me a filthy look that I returned with interest. Chris, Nikita and I followed Zamba back along the sub train.

"I'm glad that's over," muttered Nikita. "Strange woman, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is a bit," I said, my eyes on Zamba. "How come you ended up in there, Chris?"

"She saw me hex Zhi Smith," said Chris, "you remember that idiot from Badger-Stripes who was in the CA? She kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end she annoyed me so much I hexed her - when Beadu came in I thought I was going to get detention, but she just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"Better reason for inviting someone than because their father's famous," I said, scowling at the back of Zamba's head, "or because their aunt - "

But I broke off. An idea had just occurred to me, a reckless but potentially wonderful idea (or so I thought) ... in a minute's time, Zamba was going to re-enter the Snake-Eyes sixth-year compartment and Malty would be sitting there, thinking herself unheard by anybody except fellow Snake-Eyes ... if I could only enter, unseen, behind her ... what might I not see or hear? True, there was a little of the journey left - the Sub Cave had to be less than half an hour away, judging by how black the water was - but nobody else seemed prepared to take my suspicions seriously, so it was down to me to prove them.

"I'll see you two later," I said under my breath, pulling out my Invisibility Cloak and flinging it over myself.

"But what're you - ?" asked Nikita.

"Later," I whispered, darting after Zamba as quietly as possible, though the chatter of the people all around me made such caution almost pointless.

Everywhere I looked, people were changing into their school robes and were picking up their possessions. Though I was as close as I could get to Zamba without touching her, I was not quick enough to slip into the compartment when Zamba opened the door. Zamba was already closing it when I hastily stuck out my foot to prevent it closing.

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Zamba angrily as she smashed the door repeatedly into my foot.

I seized the door and pushed it open, hard; Zamba, still clinging on to the handle, toppled over sideways into Gemima Gabber's lap and, in the ensuing ruckus, I darted into the compartment, leapt on to Zamba's temporarily empty seat and hoisted myself up into the luggage rack. It was fortunate that Gabber and Zamba were snarling at each other, drawing all eyes on them, for I was quite sure my feet and ankles had been revealed as the Cloak had flapped around them, indeed, for one horrible moment I (correctly) thought I saw Malty's eyes follow my ankle boot as it whipped upwards out of sight; but then Gabber slammed the door shut and flung Zamba off her; Zamba collapsed into her own seat looking ruffled, Veronica Crate returned to her comic and Malty, sniggering, lay back down across two seats with her head in Parry Parker's lap. I lay curled uncomfortably under the Cloak to ensure that every inch of me remained hidden, and I watched as Parry stroked the sleek blonde hair off Malty's forehead, smirking as he did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in his place. The lamps attached to the ceiling cast a bright light over the scene: I could read every word of Crate's comic directly below me.

"So, Zamba," said Malty, "what did Beadu want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," said Zamba, who was still glowering at Gabber. "Not that she managed to find many."

This information did not seem to please Malty.

"Who else had she invited?" she demanded.

"Maguire from Lion-Heart," said Zamba.

"Oh yeah, his aunt's big in the Ministry," said Malty.

" - someone else called Belchly, from Raven-Wings - "

"Not her, she's an idiot!" said Parry.

" - and Bore, Pride-Lander and that Rickers boy," finished Zamba.

Malty sat up very suddenly, knocking Parry's hand aside.

"She invited _Bore_?"

"Well, I assume so, as Bore was there," said Zamba indifferently.

"What's Bore got to interest Beadu?"

Zmaba shrugged.

"Pride-Lander, precious Pride-Lander, obviously she wanted a look at the _Chosen One_ ," sneered Malty, "but that Rickers boy! What's so special about _him_!"

"Well, those blood traitor Dawsons adopted him, and I've heard a lot of girls like him," said Parry, watching Malty out of the corner of his eye for her reaction. "Even you think he's good-looking, don't you, Biana, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch someone who associated themselves with a filthy bunch of blood traitors like him whatever he looked like," said Zamba coldly, and Parry looked pleased. Malty sank back across his lap and allowed him to resume the stroking of her hair.

"Well, I pity Beadu's taste. Maybe she's going a bit senile. Shame, my mother always said she was a good witch in her day. My mother used to be a bit of a favourite of hers. Beadu probably hasn't heard I'm on the subs, or - "

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," said Zamba. "She asked me about Nechi's mother when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when she heard she'd been caught at the Ministry she didn't look happy, and Nechi didn't get an invitation, did she? I don't think Beadu's interested in Love Destroyers."

Malty looked angry, but forced out a singularly humourless laugh.

"Well, who cares what she's interested in? What is she, when you come down to it? Just some teacher," Malty yawned ostentatiously. "I mean, I might not even be at Dragon Mort next year; what's it to me if some skinny old hasbeen likes me or not?"

"What do you mean, you might not even be at Dragon Mort next year?" said Parry indignantly, ceasing grooming Malty at once.

"Well, you never know," said Malty with the ghost of a smirk. "I might have - er - moved on to bigger and better things."

Crouched in the luggage rack under my Cloak, my heart began to race. I wondered what Chris, Sian and Chrissie would say if they could see this. Crate and Gabber were gawping at Malty; apparently they had no inkling of any plans to move on to bigger and better things. Even Zamba had allowed a look of curiosity to mar her haughty features. Parry resumed the slow stroking of Malty's hair, looking dumbfounded.

"Do you mean - _Her_?"

Malty shrugged.

"My father wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it ... when the Scarlet Lady takes over, is she going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course she isn't ... it'll be all about the kind of service she received, the level of devotion she was shown."

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for her?" asked Zamba scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe she doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job she wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," said Malty quietly.

Crate and Gabber were both sitting with their mouths open like gargoyles. Parry was gazing down at Malty as though he had never seen anyone so awe-inspiring.

"We're nearing Dragon Mort, I think," said Malty, clearly relishing the effect she had created as she looked at her watch. "We'd better get our robes on."

The Snake-Eyes changed into their robes, and I was so concerned about what I had just heard that I did not notice Gabber reaching for her bag; as she swung it down, it hit me hard on the side of the head. I let out an involuntary gasp of pain and Malty looked up at the luggage rack, frowning.

I was not afraid of Malty, but I still did not much like the idea of being discovered hiding under my Invisibility Cloak by a group of unfriendly Snake-Eyes. Eyes still watering and head still throbbing, I drew my wand, careful not to disarrange the Cloak, and waited, breath held. To my relief, Malty seemed to decide that she had imagined the noise; she locked her trunk and, as the subs split up and headed to their own stopping points within the Sub Cave, fastened a thick new travelling cloak around her neck.

I watched the Snake-Eyes bunch sit down and strap themselves in as the subs were pulled up to the surface by cranes. I had forgotten about this. Panicking, I shuffled carefully and uncomfortably under the Cloak to grab on to one of the bars at the back of the luggage rack, which I held on tight to, until, with a final lurch, the sub came to a complete halt. I hoped that Sian and Chrissie would take my things out of the sub for me; I was stuck where I was until the compartment had quite emptied. Gabber unbuckled her seat immediately and headed towards the door; Crate and Zamba followed.

"You go on," Malty told Parry, who was waiting for her with his hand held out as though hoping she would hold it. "I just want to check something."

Parry left. Malty and I were now the only people in the compartment. Around us, we could hear the feet of hundreds of people descending from their subs into the Sub Cave. Malty moved over to the windows and pulled down all the blinds, so that people in the Sub Cave beyond could not peer in. She then bent down over her trunk and opened it again.

I peered down over the edge of the luggage rack, my heart pumping a little faster. Many questions then ran through my head. What had Malty wanted to hide from Parry? Was I about to see the mysterious broken object it was so impossible to mend?

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Without warning, Malty pointed her wand at me, and I was instantly paralysed. As though in slow motion, I toppled out of the luggage rack and fell, with an agonising, floor-shaking crash, at Malty's feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath me, my whole body revealed with my legs still curled absurdly into the cramped, kneeling position. I couldn't move a muscle; I could only gaze up at Malty, who smiled broadly.

"I thought so," she said jubilantly. "I heard Gabber's bag hit you. And I thought I saw something black flash through the air after Zamba came back ..." Her eyes lingered for a moment upon my ankle boots. That was you blocking the door when Zamba came back in, I suppose?"

She considered me for a moment.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Pride-Lander. But while I've got you here ..."

And she stamped, hard, on my face. I felt my nose break; blood spurted everywhere.

"That's from my mother. Now, let's see ..."

Malty dragged the Cloak out from under my immobilised body and threw it over me.

"I don't reckon they'll find you 'til the submarines are all back in Dover," she said quietly. "See you around, Pride-Lander ... or not."

And taking care to tread on my fingers, Malty left the compartment.

 **A.N.: I apologise for not warning you all about the quite disturbing thing that happened last chapter between Sian and that boy. I'm sorry if this made any of you feel uncomfortable, but it is what it is and I think it raises an important point, but if you want to skip over it, that's fine. More to come next week.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Triphorm Victorious**

 **KIARA**

I could not move a muscle. I lay there beneath the Invisibility Cloak feeling the blood from my nose flow, hot and wet, over my face, listening to the voices and footsteps in the Sub Cave beyond. My immediate thought was that someone, surely, would check the compartments in the subs before they departed again? But at once came the dispiriting realisation that even if somebody looked into the compartment, I would be neither seen nor heard. My best hope was that somebody else would just walk in and step on me.

I had never hated Malty more than as I lay there at that moment, like an absurd turtle on my back, blood dripping sickeningly into my open mouth. What a stupid situation to have landed myself in ... and now the last footsteps were dying away; everyone was shuffling up the stone steps in the Sub Cave outside; I could hear the scraping of trunks and the loud babble of talk.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie would think that I had left the subs without them once they arrived at Dragon Mort and took their places in the Great Hall, looked up and down the Lion-Heart table a few times and finally realised I was not there, I, no doubt, would be halfway back to Dover.

I tried to make a sound, even a grunt, but it was impossible. Then I remembered that some wizards, like Crighton, could perform spells without speaking, so I tried to summon my wand, which had fallen out of my hand, by saying the words _Accio wand!_ over and over again in my head, but nothing happened.

I thought I could hear the soft dripping of water from a stalagmite, and the sounds of more footsteps coming, which meant that people were coming to search the subs to see if anyone had been left behind. I was glad that a search was being made, because (and I despised myself for thinking it) I imagined panicked voices wondering where I, Kiara Pride-Lander, had gone. The feeling of hopelessness that had begun to settle disappeared slightly, even as I imagined the convoy of Thestral-drawn carriages trundling up to the school and the muffled yells of laughter issuing from whichever carriage Malty was riding in, where she would be recounting her attack on me to her fellow Snake-Eyes.

Beams of wandlight shone through the gaps in the blinds, and I could do nothing to protect myself from the blinding lights. Then they were gone, and I was left seeing nothing but bright spots in my eyes, and due to my paralysed state, I couldn't do anything to get rid of them ...

Then I felt my Invisibility Cloak fly off me and a voice overhead said, "Wotcher, Kiara."

There was a flash of red light and my body unfroze; I was able to push myself up into a more dignified position, hastily wiping the blood off my bruised face with the back of my hand, and after blinking away some of the bright dots, I looked up to find Todd, who was holding my Invisibility Cloak she had just pulled away.

"We'd best get you up to the school quickly," she said, as she pulled me to my feet. "Come on."

I followed Todd out of the compartment and out the door, shutting it behind me. Looking around, I saw many Aurors in the Sub Cave. Todd went over to a couple of them and asked if they'd checked the other subs; after that, she gave them their orders and beckoned me to follow her. Together, Todd and I climbed the steep stone steps out of the Sub Cave and out into the fresh air.

The cold night air was soothing on my throbbing nose. Todd was looking at me; I felt angry and embarrassed that I had been discovered in such a ridiculous position. Silently, she handed me the Invisibility Cloak.

"Who did it?"

"Dani Malty," I said bitterly. "Thanks for ... well ..."

"No problem," said Todd, without smiling. From what I could see in the darkness, she was as mousy-haired and miserable-looking as she had been when I had met her at Dawson Manor. "I can fix your nose if you stand still."

I did not think much of this idea; I had been intending to visit Matron, in whom I had a little more confidence when it came to Healing Spells, but it seemed rude to say this, so I stayed stock-still and closed my eyes.

 _"Episkey,"_ said Todd.

My nose felt very hot, then very cold. I raised a hand and felt it gingerly. It seemed to be mended.

"Thanks a lot!"

"You'd better put that Cloak back on, and we can walk up to the school," said Todd, still unsmiling. As I swung the Cloak back over myself she raised her wand; and immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off into the darkness.

"Was that a Patronus?" I asked, having seen Crighton send messages like this.

"Yes, I'm sending word to the castle that I've got you, or they'll worry. Come on, we'd better not dawdle."

We set off towards the lane that led to the school.

"How did you find me?"

"I noticed you hadn't left one of the subs and I knew you had that Cloak. I thought you might be hiding for some reason. We were told to search the subs anyway, to see if anyone had been left behind, and when we saw the blinds drawn on that compartment in the sub, I told the others I'd check."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm stationed in Dragsmede now, to give the school extra protection," said Todd.

"So those other guys who were in the Sub Cave, they're - ?"

"Yes, Proudfeet, Samara and Dalca are here with me, too."

"Dalca, that Auror Crighton attacked last year?"

"That's right."

We trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the freshly made carriage tracks. I looked sideways at Todd under my Cloak. Last year she had been inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at times), she had laughed easily, she had made jokes. Now she seemed older and much more serious and purposeful. Was this all the effect of what had happened at the Ministry? I reflected uncomfortably that Sian would have suggested I say something consoling about Pumbaa to her, that it hadn't been her fault at all, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was far from blaming her for Pumbaa's death; it was no more her fault than anyone else's (and much less than mine), but I did not like talking about Pumbaa if I could avoid it. And so we tramped off through the cold night in silence, Todd's long cloak whispering on the ground behind us.

Having always travelled there by carriages, I had never before appreciated just how far Dragon Mort was from the Sub Cave. With great relief I finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the gates, each topped with a winged boar. I was cold, I was hungry, and I was quite keen to leave this new, gloomy Todd behind. But when I put out a hand to push open the gates, I found them chained shut.

 _"Alohomora!"_ I said confidently, pointing my wand at the padlock, but nothing happened.

"That won't work on these," said Todd. "Crighton bewitched them herself."

I looked around.

"I could climb a wall," I suggested.

"No, you couldn't," said Todd flatly. "Anti-intruder jinxes on all of them. Security's been tightened a hundredfold this summer."

"Well then," I said, starting to feel annoyed at her lack of helpfulness, "I suppose I'll just have to sleep out here and wait for morning."

"Someone's coming down for you," said Todd. "Look."

A lantern was bobbing at the distant foot of the castle. I was so pleased to see it I felt I could endure even Match's wheezy criticisms of my tardiness and rants about how my timekeeping would improve with the regular application of thumbscrews. It was not until the glowing yellow light was ten feet away from us, and I had pulled off my Invisibility Cloak so that I could be seen, that I recognised, with a rush of pure loathing, the uplit hooked nose and long strawberry-blonde, greasy hair of Tiana Triphorm.

"Well, well, well," sneered Triphorm, taking out her wand and tapping the padlock once, so that the chains snaked backwards and the gates creaked open. "Nice of you to turn up, Pride-Lander, although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance."

"I couldn't change, I didn't have my - " I began, but Triphorm cut across me.

"There is no need to wait, Nanna. Pride-Lander is quite - ah - safe in my hands."

"I meant for Mina to get the message," said Todd, frowning.

"Mina was quite late for the start-of-term feast, just like Pride-Lander here, so I took it instead. And incidentally," said Triphorm, standing back to allow me to pass her, "I was interested to see your new Patronus."

She shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains with her wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place.

"I think you were better off with the old one," said Triphorm, the malice in her voice unmistakeable. "The new one looks weak."

As Triphorm swung the lantern about I saw, fleetingly, a look of shock and anger on Todd's face. Then she was covered in darkness once more.

"Goodnight," I called out to her over my shoulder, as I began to walk up to the school with Triphorm. "Thanks for ... everything."

"See you, Kiara."

Triphorm did not speak for a minute or so. I felt as though my body was generating waves of hatred so powerful that it seemed incredible to me that Triphorm could not feel them burning her. I, as you all should know by now, my dear readers, had loathed Triphorm from our first encounter, but Triphorm had placed herself for ever and irrevocably beyond the possibility of my forgiveness by her attitude towards Pumbaa and my parents. Whatever Crighton said, I had had time to think over that summer, and had concluded that Triphorm's snide remaining safely hidden while the rest of the Order of the Centaur were fighting Zira had probably been a powerful factor in my mother rushing to the Ministry, and Pumbaa following after her and my father the night he died. I clung to this notion, because it enabled me to blame Triphorm, which felt satisfying, and also because I knew that if anyone was not sorry that Pumbaa was dead, it was the woman now striding next to me in the darkness.

"Fifty points from Lion-Heart for lateness, I think," said Triphorm. "And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire. I don't believe any house has ever been in negative figures this early in the term - we haven't even started pudding. You might have set a record, Pride-Lander."

The fury and hatred bubbling inside me seemed to blaze white-hot, but I would rather have been immobilised all the way back to Dover than tell Triphorm why I was late.

"I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you?" Triphorm continued. "And with no flying car available you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect."

I still remained silent, though I thought my chest might explode. I knew that Triphorm had come to fetch me for this, for the few minutes when she could needle and torment me without anyone listening.

We reached the castle steps at last and as the great oaken front doors swung open on to the vast flagged Entrance Hall, a burst of talk and laughter and of tinkling plates and glasses greeted us through the doors standing open into the Great Hall. I wondered whether I could slip my Invisibility Cloak back on, thereby gaining my seat at the long Lion-Heart table (which, inconveniently, was the furthest from the doors to the Great Hall) without being noticed.

As though she had read my mind, however, Triphorm said, "No Cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I'm sure."

I turned on the spot and marched straight through the open doors: anything to get away fro Triphorm. The Great Hall, with its four long house tables and its staff table set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow. It was all a shimmering glow to me, however, for I walked so fast that I was passing the Badger-Stripes table before people really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a good look at me, I had spotted Sian and Chrissie (Chris was sitting with Dena next to Zara), sped along the benches towards them and forced my way in between the two of them.

"At last, you're here! We've been worried about you. Where've you - my God, what happened to your face?" said Chrissie, goggling at me along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" I said, grabbing a spoon and squinting at my disturbed reflection.

"You're covered in blood!" said Sian. "Come here - "

She raised her wand, said, _"Tergeo!"_ and siphoned off the dried blood.

"Thanks," I said, feeling my now clean face. "How's my nose looking?"

"Normal," said Sian anxiously. "Why shouldn't it? Kiara, what happened, we've been terrified!"

"I'll tell you later," I said curtly. I was very conscious that Sarah Rimmer, Nikita, Chris, Dena and Zara were listening in, Chris looking the most concerned of all of them; even Madam Nicola, the Lion-Heart ghost, had come floating along the bench to eavesdrop.

"But - " said Sian.

"Not now, Sian," I said, in a darkly significant voice. I hoped very much that they would all assume I had been involved in something heroic, preferably involving a couple of Love Destroyers and a Stinger. Of course, Malty had spread the story as far and wide as she could, but there was always a chance it wouldn't reach too many Lion-Heart ears.

I reached across Chrissie for a couple of chicken legs and a handful of chips, but before I could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.

"You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Sian, as Chrissie dived for a large chocolate gateau.

"Have the Heads said anything interesting this year?" I asked, helping myself to apple crumble.

"Yeah, but it was just about advising us all to unite in the face of our enemies, you know."

"Crighton mentioned Zira at all?"

"Not yet," said Chrissie, "but she always saves her proper speech for after the feast, doesn't she? It can't be long now."

"Triphorm said Mina was late for the feast - "

"You've seen Triphorm? How come?" said Chrissie between frenzied mouthfuls of gateau. Sian kept shooting her disgusted looks.

"Bumped into her," I said evasively.

"Mina was only a few minutes late," said Sian. "Look, she's waving at you, Kiara."

I looked up at the staff table and grinned at Mina, who was indeed waving at me. Mina had never quite managed to comport herself with the dignity of Professor Darbus, Head of Lion-Heart House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Mina's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapprovingly at this greeting. I was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Crystals, sitting on Mina's other side; he rarely left his tower room and I had never seen him at the start-of-term feast before this point. He looked as odd as ever, glittering with scarves and trailing shawls, his eyes magnified to enormous size by his spectacles. Having always considered him to be a bit of a fraud, I had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been he who had made the prediction that caused Lady Zira to attack me. The knowledge had made me even less eager to find myself in his company, but thankfully, that year I had no need to carry on with Divination. His great beacon-like eyes swivelled in my direction; I hastily looked away towards the Snake-Eyes table. Dani Malty was miming the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. I dropped my gaze to my apple crumble, my insides burning again. What I wouldn't give to fight Malty one on one ...

"So what did Professor Beadu want?" Sian asked.

"To know what really happened at the Ministry," I said.

"Her and everyone else here," sniffed Sian. "People were interrogating us about it on the subs, weren't they, Chrissie?"

"Yeah," said Chrissie. "All wanting to know if you really are the Chosen One - "

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," interrupted Madam Nicola, inclining her barely connected head towards me so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Pride-Lander authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Kiara Pride-Lander knows that she can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray her trust.' "

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Chrissie observed.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Madam Nicola in affronted tones, and she rose into the air and glided back towards the far end of the Lion-Heart table just as Crighton got to her feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" she said, smiling broadly, her arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to her hand?" gasped Chrissie.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Crighton's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night she had come to fetch me from my grandmothers'. Whispers swept the room; Crighton, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook her ceremonial silver sleeve over her injury.

"Nothing to worry about," she said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome; to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you ..."

"Her hand was like that when I saw her over the summer," I whispered to Chrissie. "I thought she'd have cured it by now, though ... or Matron would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," said Chrissie, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure ... old curses ... and I've heard of poisons without antidotes ..."

" ... and Mr Match, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Fangs' Friendly Funnies.

"Those wishing to play for their house Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Beadu," Beadu stood up, her tall, bony frame seemed to keep rising and rising, and from where I was sat, she looked almost as tall as Mina, "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume her old post as Potions mistress."

"Potions?"

 _"Potions?"_

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they heard right.

"Potions?" said Sian and Chrissie together, turning to stare at me. "But you said - "

"Professor Triphorm, meanwhile," said Crighton, raising her voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" I said, so loudly that many heads turned in my direction. I did not care; I was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Triphorm have been given the Defence Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Crighton did not trust her to do it?

"But, Kiara, you said that Beadu was going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts!" said Sian.

"I thought she was!" I said, racking my brains to remember when Crighton told me this, but now that I came to think of it, I was unable to recall Crighton ever telling me what Beadu would be teaching.

Triphorm, who was sitting on Crighton's right, did not stand up at the mention of her name, merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement of the applause from the Snake-Eyes table, yet I was sure I could detect a look of triumph on the features I loathed so much.

"Well, there's one good thing," I said savagely. "Triphorm'll be gone by the end of the year."

"What do you mean?" asked Chrissie.

"That job's jinxed. No one's lasted more than a year ... Quarrell actually died doing it. Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death ..."

"Kiara!" said Sian, shocked and reproachful.

"She might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Chrissie reasonably. "That Beadu woman might not want to stay long-term. Grumpy didn't."

Crighton cleared her throat. Sian, Chrissie and I were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Triphorm had finally achieved her heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news she had just imparted, Crighton said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lady Zira and her followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Crighton spoke. I glanced at Malty. Malty was not looking at Crighton, but making her fork hover in mid-air with her wand, as though she found the Headmistress' words unworthy of her attention.

"I cannot emphasise enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Dragon Mort must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer; we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them - in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other's safety."

Crighton's green eyes swept over we students before she smiled once more.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip pip!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall towards their dormitories. I was in no hurry to leave at all with the gawping crowd, nor to get near enough to Malty to allow her to retell the story of the nose-stamping, so I lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on my boot, allowing most Lion-Hearts to draw ahead of me, and Chrissie lagged behind too, as Sian jumped to her feet to go after the first years; down the table, I saw Chris kiss Dena, before going after her, somehow wishing that it was me he was kissing.

"What really happened to your nose?" Chrissie asked, once we were at the very back of the throng pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of everyone else.

I told her. It was a mark of the strength of our friendship that Chrissie did not laugh.

"I saw Malty miming something to do with a nose," she said darkly.

"Yeah, well, never mind that," I said bitterly. "Listen to what she was saying before she found out I was there ..."

I had expected Chrissie to be stunned by Malty's boasts. With what I considered pure pig-headedness, however, Chrissie was unimpressed.

"Come on, Kiara, she was just showing off for Parker ... what kind of mission would She-You-Know have given her?"

"How d'you know Zira doesn't need someone at Dragon Mort? It wouldn't be the first - "

"I wish yeh'd stop sayin' tha' name, Kiara," said a reproachful voice behind us. I looked over my shoulder to see Mina shaking her head.

"Crighton uses that name," I said stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, that's Crighton, innit?" said Mina mysteriously. "So how come yeh were late, Kiara? I was worried."

"Got held up in one of the subs," I said. "Why were _you_ late?"

"I was with Harlow," said Mina happily. "Los' track o' the time. She's got a new home up in the mountains now, Crighton fixed it - nice big cave. She's much happier than she was in the Forest. We were havin' a good chat."

"Really?" I said, taking care not to catch Chrissie's eye; the last time I had met Mina's half-sister, a vicious giantess with a talent for ripping up trees by the roots, her vocabulary had comprised of five words, two of which she was unable to pronounce properly.

"Oh yeah, she's really come on," said Mina proudly. "Yeh'll be amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' her up as me assistant."

Chrissie snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze. We were now standing beside the oak front doors.

"Anyway, I'll see yeh tomorrow, firs' lesson's straight after lunch. Come early an' yeh can say hello ter Noe - I mean, Aureole!"

Raising an arm in cheery farewell, she headed out of the front doors, into the darkness. Chrissie and I looked at each other. I could tell that Chrissie was experiencing the same sinking feeling as myself.

"You're not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?"

Chrissie shook her head.

"And you're not either, are you?"

I shook my head, too.

"And Chris and Sian," said Chrissie, "they're not, are they?"

I shook my head again. Exactly what Mina would say when she realised her four favourite students had given up her subject, I did not like to think.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **The Half-Blood Princess**

 **KIARA**

Chrissie and I met Chris and Sian in the common room before breakfast next morning. Hoping for some support for my theory, I lost no time in telling Chris and Sian what I had overheard on the Dragon Mort Subs.

"But she was obviously showing off for Parker, wasn't she?" interjected Chrissie quickly, before either Chris or Sian could say anything.

"She could have been, Chrissie," said Chris slowly, "but from what she was saying ... it just doesn't seem likely ..."

"Chris does have a point, Chrissie," said Sian. "I mean, of course it would be like Malty to make herself seem more important than she is ... but that's a big lie to tell ..."

"Exactly," I said, but I could not press the point, because so many people were trying to listen in to my conversation, not to mention staring at me and whispering behind their hands.

"It's rude to point," Chrissie snapped at a particularly miniscule first-year as we joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The girl, who had been muttering something about me behind her hand to her friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Chrissie sniggered, but stopped quickly as the sharp look Sian gave her, along with the thwack she planted on Chrissie's arm. Sian then bent down to help the girl up, casting her a gentle, reassuring smile. The girl put her trembling hands in Sian's and Sian helped the girl to her feet. The girl then cast Sian a fleeting, grateful smile, before she ran off. Sian then turned back to us and shot Chrissie a sharp glare, which she avoided. Sian then shook her head and beckoned us on to breakfast. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Chrissie plucked up the courage to speak again.

"I love being a sixth-year. _And_ we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Chrissie!" said Sian snappishly, as we walked on down the corridor.

"Yeah, but not today," said Chrissie, "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

"Hold it!" said Sian, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth-year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disc clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over," she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the Fanged Frisbee, ducked under Sian's arm and took off after his friends. Chrissie waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee free from Sian's grip.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."

Sian's remonstration was drowned by a loud laugh; Larry Brown had apparently found Chrissie's remark highly amusing. He continued to laugh as he passed us, glancing back at Chrissie over his shoulder. Chrissie looked rather pleased with herself.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. Dena hadn't arrived with Zara yet, so Chris sat with Sian, Chrissie and I, and as the four of us tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Chrissie and I told Chris and Sian about our embarrassing conversation with Mina the previous evening.

"But she can't really think we'd continue with Care of Magical Creatures!" Sian said, looking distressed. "I mean, when have any of us expressed ... you know ... any enthusiasm?"

"That's it, though, innit?" said Chris, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Mina. But she thinks we liked the stupid _subject_? D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"

Neither Sian nor Chrissie nor I answered; there was no need. We knew perfectly well that nobody in our year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. We avoided Mina's eye and returned her cheery wave only half-heartedly when she left the staff table ten minutes later, and only five minutes before that Dena had come into the Great Hall with Zara, looking disappointed that Chris was sat with us instead of her, but Chris waved at her and blew me a kiss, which made Dena blush and giggle, and which made me feel annoyed at Dena for some reason.

After we had eaten, we remained in our places, awaiting Professor Darbus' descent from the staff table. The distribution of timetables was more complicated than usual that year, for Professor Darbus needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with our chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Sian was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Ancient Runes and Potions, and she shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Chris was cleared for the same subjects, except that he had Arithmancy instead of Ancient Runes, and ran off to a first-period Arithmancy as soon as Professor Darbus was done with him. Nikita took a little longer to sort out; her round face was anxious as Professor Darbus looked down her application and then consulted her O.W.L. results.

"Herbology, fine," Professor Darbus said. "Spud will be delighted to see you back with an "Outstanding" O.W.L. And you qualify for Defence Against the Dark Arts with "Exceeds Expectations". But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Bore, but an "Acceptable" really isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T. level, I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."

Nikita hung her head. Professor Darbus peered at her through her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, any way? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

Nikita looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandfather wants".

"Humph," snorted Professor Darbus. "It's high time your grandfather learned to be proud of the granddaughter he's got, rather than the one he thinks he ought to have - particularly after what happened at the Ministry."

Nikita turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor Darbus had never paid her a compliment before.

"I'm sorry, Bore, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class. I see that you have an "Exceeds Expectations" in Charms, however - why not try for an N.E.W.T in Charms?"

"My grandfather thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Nikita.

"Take Charms," said Professor Darbus, "and I shall drop Augustus a line reminding him that just because he failed _his_ Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Nikita's face, Professor Darbus tapped a blank timetable with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of her new classes, to Nikita.

Professor Darbus turned next to Parry Parker, whose first question was whether Fauna, the beautiful centaur, was still teaching Divination.

"She and Professor Crystals are dividing classes between them this year," said Professor Darbus, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Crystals."

Perry set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

"So, Pride-Lander, Pride-Lander ... " said Professor Darbus, consulting her notes as she turned to me. "Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration ... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Pride-Lander, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"

"It was, but you told me I had to get an "Outstanding" in my O.W.L., Professor."

"And so you did when Professor Triphorm was teaching the subject. Professor Beadu, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with "Exceeds Expectations" at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"

"Yes," I said, "but I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything - "

"I'm sure Professor Beadu will be able to lend you some," said Professor Darbus. "Very well, Pride-Lander, here is your timetable. Oh, by the way - twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Lion-Heart Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Chrissie was cleared to do the same subjects as me, and the two of us left the table together.

"Look," said Chrissie delightedly, staring at her timetable, "we've got a free period now ... and a free period after break ... and after lunch ... _excellent_!"

We returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a dozen seventh-years including Keith Ball, the only remaining member of the Lion-Heart Quidditch team that I had joined in my first year.

"I thought you'd get that, well done," he called over, pointing at the captain's badge on my chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"

"Don't be stupid," I said, "you don't need to try out, I've watched you play for five years ..."

"You mustn't start off like that," he said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends ..."

Chrissie looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Sian had taken from the fourth-year. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites off the tapestry. Lucifer's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.

An hour later we reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Chris and Sian were already queuing outside, both carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

"We got so much homework for Runes," Sian said anxiously, when Chrissie and I joined her and Chris. A fifteen-inch essay, two translations and I've got to read these by Monday!"

"Same for me in Arithmancy," said Chris, shaking his head.

"Shame," yawned Chrissie.

"Oh, Chrissie," sighed Chris, shaking his head sadly at her, "you poor, poor, sweet, naïve little fool ..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chrissie asked, looking affronted.

"I believe what Chris is trying to say, sister," said Sian, "is that after all this time, you really don't know Triphorm at all, do you? And I happen to agree with him. You watch, she'll give us loads of homework now."

The classroom door opened as she spoke and Triphorm stepped into the corridor, her sallow face framed by two long curtains of strawberry-blonde hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," she said.

I looked around as we entered. Triphorm had imposed her personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. None of us spoke as we settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Triphorm, closing the door and moving to face us from behind her desk; Sian hastily dropped her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you and I want your fullest attention."

Her icy-blue eyes roved over our upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on mine than anyone else's.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

 _You believe ... like you haven't watched them all come and go, Triphorm, hoping you'd be next_ , I thought scathingly.

"Naturally, these teachers will have all had their own methods and priorities. Given the confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

Triphorm set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; we all craned our necks to keep her in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Triphorm, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, every time a head is severed, sprouts a head even more fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

I stared at Triphorm. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Triphorm was doing, with a loving caress in her voice?

"Your defences," said Triphorm, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures," she indicated a few of them as she swept past, "give fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" (she waved a hand towards a wizard who was clearly shrieking in agony) "feel the Stingers Suck" (a witch lay huddled and blank-eyed slumped against a wall) "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" (a bloody mass upon the ground).

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Perry Party nervously. "Is it definite, is she using them?"

"Both the Dark Lord and the Scarlet Lady have been known to use them in the past," said Triphorm, "which means you would be well-advised to assume she might use them again. Now ..."

She set off again around the other side of the classroom towards her desk, and again, myself and the rest of my classmates watched her as she walked, her dark robes billowing behind her.

" ... you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Sian's hand shot into the air. Triphorm took her time looking around at the rest of us, making sure she had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well - Eldest Dawson Girl?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Sian, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6_ ," said Triphorm dismissively (over in the corner, Malty sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who can progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," her gaze lingered maliciously on mine once more, "lack."

I knew Triphorm was thinking of our disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. I refused to drop her gaze, but glowered at Triphorm until Triphorm looked away.

"You will now divide," Triphorm went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other _without speaking_. The other will attempt to repel the jinx _in equal silence_. Carry on."

Although Triphorm did not know it, I had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the CA) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of us had ever cast the Charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Sian managed to repel Chris' muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Lion-Heart from ant reasonable teacher, I thought bitterly, but which Triphorm ignored. She swept between all of us as we practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown red bat as ever, lingering to watch Chrissie and I struggling with the task.

Chrissie, who was supposed to be jinxing me, was purple in the face, her lips tightly compressed to save herself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. I had my wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.

"Pathetic, Dawson," said Triphorm, after a while. "Here - let me show you - "

She turned her wand on me so fast that I reacted instinctively; all thought of non-verbal spells forgotten yelled, _"Protego!"_

My Shield Charm was so strong Triphorm was knocked off balance and his a desk. The rest of the class looked round and now watched as Triphorm righted herself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing _non-verbal_ spells, Pride-Lander?"

"Yes," I said stiffly.

"Yes, _ma'am_."

"There's no need to call me 'ma'am', Professor."

The words had escaped me before I knew what I was saying. Several people gasped, including Sian. Chris, Chrissie, Dena and Zara grinned appreciatively.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Triphorm. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Pride-Lander ... not even the _Chosen One_."

"That was brilliant, Kiara!" chortled Chrissie, once we were safely on our way to break a short while later.

"I agree with Chrissie on this one," said Chris, ending on a laugh. "Way to stick it to her, Kiara!"

"You really shouldn't have said it," said Sian, frowning at Chris and Chrissie. "What made you?"

"She was trying to jinx me, in case you didn't noticed!" I said, fuming. "I had enough of that during those Occlumecy lessons! Why doesn't she use another guinea pig for a change? What's Crighton playing at, anyway, letting her teach Defence? Did you hear her talking about the Dark Arts? She loves them! All that _unfixed_ , _indestructible_ stuff - "

"Well," said Sian, "I thought she sounded a bit like you."

"Like _me_?"

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Zira. You said it wasn't just memorising a bunch of spells, you said it was you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Triphorm was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

I was so disarmed that she had thought my words as well worth memorising as _The Standard Book of Spells_ that I did not argue.

"Kiara! Hey, Kiara?"

I looked round; Jackie Slacks, one of the Beaters on the previous year's Lion-Heart Quidditch team, was hurrying towards me with a roll of parchment.

"For you," panted Slacks. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," I said, thinking privately that Slacks would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend - "

But I was not listening; I had just recognised the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Slacks in mid-sentence, I hurried away with Chris, Sian and Chrissie, unrolling the parchment as I went.

 _Dear Sian and Kiara,_

 _I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Please kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are both enjoying your first day back at school._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Susan Crighton_

 _P.S. There are tokens inside the envelope for you and Sian. You know how to use them._

"What are the tokens for?" said Chrissie, who read the message over my shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"They're for the elevator that takes us to her office," I said in a low voice. "Ha! Triphorm's not going to be pleased ... I won't be able to do her detention!"

She, Sian and I (not Chris, for Dena had caught up with him and dragged him off with Zara to their own little corner of the courtyard; I watched them go, to much annoyance, though I didn't know why) spent the whole of break speculating on what Crighton would teach Sian and I. Chrissie thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Love Destroyers would not know. Sian said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Crighton wanted to teach herself and I advanced defensive magic, but that we would have to wait and see until Saturday, for even though Sian knew her mother well, Sian sometimes didn't know what her mother was going to do next. After break, the three of us, and Chris, proceeded to the common room, where we grudgingly started Triphorm's homework. This turned out to be so complex that, even though Sian was with us, we were still doing it through our lunch-free period. We had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and we beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Triphorm's.

When we arrived in the corridor we saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T level. Crate and Gabber had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four Snake-Eyes had made it through, including Malty and Rae-Bradley, who I saw looked uncomfortable around her fellow Snake-Eyes, who ignored her, but she turned and smiled at Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I briefly when she saw us, and we smiled back at her. Three Raven-Wings were there, and one Badger-Stripes, Emily Mack, whom I liked despite her rather pompous manner.

"Kiara," Emily said portentously, holding out her hand as I approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defence Against the Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old CA lags ... and how are you, Chris - Sian - Chrissie?"

Before they could say more than 'fine', the dungeon door opened and Beadu's long and bony figure stepped out, her hair tied in a tight bun, and she greeted Zamba and I with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapours and odd smells. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I sniffed interestedly as we passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Snake-Eyes took a nearby table together, as did the three Raven-Wings and Emily. This left Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I to our own table. We chose the one nearest a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents I have ever inhaled: somehow it reminded me simultaneously of apple crumble, the woody smell of a broomstick and something woodsy I might have smelled at Dawson Manor ... like pine? I found that I was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling me up like a drink. A great contentment stole over me; I grinned across at Chrissie, who grinned lazily back. Chris, I saw, was gazing dreamily at me, which made me blush furiously and I looked away from him, trying desperately not to feel his eyes on mine, shaking my head furiously.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Beadu, whose bony outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapours. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of _Advanced Potion Making_ ..."

"Ma'am?" I said, raising my hand.

"Kiara, dear?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything - nor's Chrissie - we didn't realise we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T, you see - "

"Ah, yes, Professor Darbus did mention ... not to worry, my dear girl, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from my store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts ..."

Beadu strode over to a corner cupboard and after a moment's foraging emerged with two very battered-looking copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libiatus Dorage, which she gave to Chrissie and I along with two sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Beadu, returning to the front of the class and standing at her full height, so that she easily towered over all of us, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

She indicated the cauldron nearest the Snake-Eyes table. I raised myself slightly in my seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Sian's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Beadu pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Sian.

"Very good, very good!" said Beadu happily. "Now," she continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Raven-Wings and Badger-Stripes table, this one here is pretty well-known ... featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too ... who can - ?"

Sian's hand was fastest once more.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, ma'am," she said.

I recognised the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron, too, but I did not resent Sian getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in our second year.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here ... yes, my dear?" said Beadu, now looking slightly bemused as Sian's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Beadu, who was looking mildly impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Sian.

!Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And by the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Sian enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell the smell of new books and fresh baking and French vanilla." She smiled a little dreamily as she finished the sentence.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Beadu, ignoring Sian's dreamy state, and calling Sian back to the present.

"Sian Dawson, ma'am."

"Dawson? Dawson? Can you possibly be related to Matthew Dawson, a student who I never saw much hope with, but has done well for himself once he left school and in recent months, I hear?"

She flushed a little and said, "Yes, ma'am, I am. I am the firstborn of him and Susan Crighton, Headmistress of this school, and in case you want to know, we're one of the last remaining pure-blood families around." There was a note of pride in Sian's voice as she told Beadu that her family was a pure-blood family. She merely stated it as a fact, which made Beadu's eyebrows rise.

I saw Malty lean close to Natt and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Beadu showed no dismay; on the contrary, after her initial shock at Sian's comment, she beamed and looked from Sian to me, as I was sat beside her.

"Aha! _'One of my best friends is pure-blood, and she's the best in our year!'_ I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Kiara?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

Beadu nodded, then turned back to Sian and said, tapping a bony finger thoughtfully on her chin, "Crighton's firstborn, eh? Well, I can certainly see the resemblance, not to mention the uncannily annoying clever brains which you have obviously inherited from your mother ..." But after a moment, Beadu shrugged her shoulders, smiled widely and said, "But who am I to deny talent when I see it so clearly? Take twenty well-earned points for Lion-Heart, Miss Dawson!"

Malty had looked rather as she had done the time Sian had punched her in the face. Sian turned to me with a bashful expression and whispered, "Did you really tell her I'm the best in the year? Oh, _Kiara_!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Chrissie. "You _are_ the best in the year - I've told her so if she'd asked me!"

"I would have, too," whispered Chris. Sian smiled at their comments but made a 'shush'ing gesture, so that we could hear what Beadu was saying. Chris and Chrissie both looked slightly disgruntled.

"Amortentia doesn't really create _love_ , of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room - oh yes," she said, nodding gravely at Malty and Natt, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love ...

"And now," said Beadu, "it is time for us to start work."

"Ma'am, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Emily Mac, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Beadu's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Aha," said Beadu again. I was sure that Beadu had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, _that_ one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," she turned, smiling, to look at Sian, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis is, Miss Dawson?"

"It's liquid luck," said Sian excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

All of us in that class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all I could see of Malty was the back of her sleek blonde head, because she was at last giving Beadu her full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Lion-Heart. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Beadu. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed ... at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people take it all the time, ma'am?" said Teri Boots eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness and dangerous overconfidence," said Beadu. "Too much of a good thing, you know ... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally ..."

"Have you ever taken it, ma'am?" said Michelle Corn with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Beadu. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

She gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether she was play-acting or not, I thought, the effect was good.

"And that," said Beadu, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was a silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Beadu, taking out a miniscule glass bottle with a cork in it our of her pocket and showing it to all of us. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn 'til dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organised competitions ... sporting events, for instance, examinations or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only ... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!

"So," said Beadu, suddenly brisk, "how are you going to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of _Advanced Potion-Making_. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as we all drew our cauldrons towards us, and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but none of us spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. I saw Malty riffling feverishly through her copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. It could not have been clearer that Malty really wanted that lucky day. I bent swiftly over the tattered book that Beadu had lent me.

To my annoyance I saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) I hurried off towards the store cupboard to find what I needed. As I dashed back to my cauldron, I saw Malty cutting up valerian roots as fast as she could.

We all kept glancing around to see what the rest of us were doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Sian, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the 'smooth, blackcurrant-coloured liquid' mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping my roots, I bent over my book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken an issue with the order to cut up the Sopophorous Bean and had written in the alternative direction:

 _Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting._

"Ma'am, I think you knew my grandmother, Abhilasha Malty?"

I looked up; Beadu was just passing the Snake-Eyes table.

"Yes," said Beadu, without looking at Malty, "I was sorry to hear she had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at her age ..."

And she walked away. I bent over my cauldron, smirking. I could tell that Malty had expected to be treated like myself or Zamba, perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type she had learned to expect from Triphorm. It looked as though Malty would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

The Sopophorous Bean was proving very difficult to cut up. I turned to Sian.

"Can I borrow your silver knife?"

She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.

I crushed my bean with the flat side of the dagger. To my astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice. I was amazed the shrivelled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron I saw, to my surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

My annoyance with the previous own vanishing on the spot, I now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, I had to stir counter-clockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the edition the previous owner had made, however, I ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir. Could the owner be right twice?

I stirred counter-clockwise, held my breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Sian, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

"Add a clockwise stir - "

"No, no, the book says counter-clockwise!" she snapped.

I shrugged and continued what I was doing. Seven stirs counter-clockwise, one clockwise, pause ... seven stirs counter-clockwise, one stir clockwise ...

Across the table, Chrissie was cursing fluently under her breath; her potion looked like liquid liquorice. Chris, on the other hand, was frowning into his potion, which was blue violet, and he had two little frustration lines above his nose that I had never noticed before, which I found to be rather cute. I shook my head and glanced around. As far as I could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as mine had. I felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in the dungeon.

"And time's ... up!" called Beadu. "Stop stirring, please!"

Beadu moved slowly between the tables, peering into the cauldrons. She made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a little stir, or a sniff. At last she reached the table where Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were sitting. She smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Chrissie's cauldron. She passed over Chris' violet blue concoction. Sian's potion she gave an approving nod. Then she saw mine, and a look of incredulous delight spread over her face.

"The clear winner!" she cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Kiara! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your father's talent, he was a dab hand at Potions, Simba was! Here you are, then, here you are - one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

I slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into my inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Snake-Eyes' faces, and guilt at the disappointed expression on Sian's. Both Chris and Chrissie looked simply dumbfounded.

"How did you do that?" Chrissie whispered to me as we left the dungeon.

"Got lucky, I suppose," I said, because Malty was within earshot.

Once we were securely ensconced at the Lion-Heart table for dinner, however, I felt safe enough to tell them. Sian's face became stonier with every word I uttered.

"I s'pose you think I cheated," I finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.

"She only followed different instructions to ours," said Chrissie. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But she took a risk and it paid off." She heaved a sigh. "Beadu could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written in. _Puked on_ , by the look of page fifty-two, but - "

"Hang on," said a voice close by my ear, and I looked round to see that Kestrel had joined us; at precisely the same moment, Dena showed up and dragged Chris away to where Zara was sat. I watched them before turning my focus back on Kestrel. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Kiara?"

She looked alarmed and angry. I knew what was on her mind at once.

"It's nothing," I said reassuringly, lowering my voice. "It's not like, you know, Maliay's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled in, that's all."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Kestrel, there's nothing funny - "

"Kestrel's got a point," said Sian, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knoew?"

"Hey!" I said indignantly, as she pulled my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of my bag and raised her wand.

 _"Specialis Revelio!"_ she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.

"Finished?" I said irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back flips?"

"It seems all right," said Sian, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be ... just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back," I said, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from my hand and landed open on the floor.

Nobody else was looking. I bent low to retrieve the book and, as I did so, I saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won me my bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in my trunk upstairs.

 _This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Princess._

 **AN: I am sorry if you are not receiving any notifications for this story, I'm not either, but I am updating every Wednesday. If you wish to follow the forum I started on this site yesterday, you will see that I posted the same thing there. I will post again after I update this story to tell you that a new chapter has been updated. See you next Wednesday.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **The House of Maliay**

 **KIARA**

For the rest of the week's Potions lessons I continued to follow the Half-Blood Princess' instructions wherever they deviated from Libatius Borage's (but it wasn't until our fourth lesson the following Monday that Beadu was raving about my abilities, saying that she had rarely taught anyone so talented). Neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie was delighted about this. Although I had offered to share my book with the three of them, Chris declined, saying it would look suspicious of we shared a book, when he had one that was in pristine condition. Chrissie had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than I did, and she could not keep asking me to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Sian, meanwhile, was resolutely ploughing on with what she called the 'official' instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poor results than the Princess'.

On Saturday, I decided to write to my parents and tell how my first week back went.

 _Dear Daddy and Mum,_

 _I can't believe it's the weekend already! This week flew by so fast. Not that much interesting has happened, to tell you the truth, apart from the fact that I got a detention from Triphorm for talking back to her. I don't know what happened, she asked me a question, I said "yes", she said "yes,_ ma'am _", and I said, "there's no need to call me ma'am, Professor"._ _I didn't mean to be cheeky to her, but she did try to jinx me and I just wasn't going to sit there and let her get me; I swear she was trying to get me for what happened during our Occlumency lessons last year._

 _But enough of the bad news, now on to the good. I made quite an impression on Professor Beadu. She's really impressed by my abilities. Honestly, I don't know where my sudden potion genius has come from, but Beadu is really happy with me. Sian's not. I think she's jealous that I've stolen her thunder, but don't tell her I said that._

 _I've got to go. Mum, I hope you are doing well with your pregnancy. Oh, and are you experiencing any strange cravings yet? I'm curious to know._

 _Love you both,_

 _Kiara_

I don't know why I didn't tell my parents the stuff about the Half-Blood Princess' book, but looking back it was for the best, because some things in that book shocked me when I used a certain spell in there, but we'll get to that.

I wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Princess had been. Although the amount of homework we had been given prevented me from reading the whole copy of my _Advanced Potion-Making_ , I had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Princess had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells the Princess had made up herself.

"Or himself," said Sian irritably, overhearing me pointing some of these out to Chrissie in the common room that Saturday evening; Chris, of course, was in a corner with Dena, who was laughing at something amusing he had just said, much to my annoyance. "It might have been a boy. I think the handwriting looks more like a boy's than a girl's."

"The Half-Blood _Princess_ , she was called," I said. "How many boys have been Princesses?"

Sian seemed to have no answer to this. She merely scowled and twitched her essay on "The Principles of Re-Materialisation" away from Chrissie, who was trying to read it upside-down. I looked down at my watch and hurriedly put down the old copy of _Advance Potion-Making_ back into my bag.

"It's five to eight, Sian. We'd better go, or we'll be late for your mother."

"Ooooh!" gasped Sian, putting her things away hastily. "Thanks for reminding me, Kiara. I'd forgotten about that."

"Tell me how it goes!" said Chrissie. "I want to know what Ma teaches you - and Chris, too, whenever he has a moment to spare."

I let out a forceful laugh, not choosing to look at the spot where Chris and Dena were sat together, as Sian and I turned to leave through the portrait hole.

Sian and I proceeded through deserted corridors, though we had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Crystals appeared round a corner, muttering to himself as he shuffled a pack of dirty looking playing cards, reading them as he walked.

"Two of spades: conflict," he muttered, as he passed the place where Sian and I were both crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young woman, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner - "

He stopped dead, right on the other side of mine and Sian's statue.

"Well, that can't be right," he said, annoyed, and Sian and I heard him reshuffling vigorously as he set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind him. Sian and I waited until we were quite sure he had gone, then hurried off again until we reached the glass elevator on the second-floor corridor that took us to Crighton's office.

I placed two tokens in the token slot and Sian and I stepped in. "Two for the Headmistress' office, please," said Sian clearly. The door slid shut and we were off like a rocket, zooming all over the school, until we reached the door of the Head's office. We stepped out once the doors had opened, and as the elevator took off again, I knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Crighton's voice.

"Good evening, ma'am," I said, as I walked into the office.

"Good evening, Ma," said Sian, running to embrace her mother, who stood up from behind her desk to give Sian a proper hug.

"Ah, good evening, girls," said Crighton, once she had let go of Sian and had turned to face me again, smiling. "Sit down, both of you. I hope you two have had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, ma'am," I said, as Sian nodded her head eagerly.

"You must have been busy, Kiara, a detention under your belt already!"

"Er ..." I began awkwardly, but Crighton did not look too stern.

"I have arranged with Professor Triphorm that you will do your detention next Saturday instead."

"Right," was all I said, for I had more pressing matters on my mind than Triphorm's detention. I looked around surreptitiously for some indication of what Crighton was planning to do with Sian and I that evening. The circular office looked just as it always did: the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses dozed in their frames; pictures that Crighton's children had sent her over the years were pinned on a wall near her desk; and Crighton's magnificent phoenix, Kenna, stood on her perch behind the door, watching Sian and I with bright interest. It did not even look as though Crighton had cleared a space for duelling practice. I looked at Sian, who looked just as confused about this as I did.

"So, Sian, Kiara," said Crighton, in a businesslike voice. "You have both been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these - for want of a better word - lessons?"

Sian and I spoke at the same time.

"Yes, Ma."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you both know what prompted Lady Zira to try and kill you, Kiara, fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."

There was a pause.

"You said at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything," I said. It was hard to keep a note of accusation out of my voice. "Ma'am," I added.

"And so I did," said Crighton placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and the three of us shall journey together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From hereon in, Sian, Kiara, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed that the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" I said.

"Naturally, I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next person. In fact, being - forgive me - rather cleverer than most people, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

"Ma'am," I said tentatively, "does what you're going to tell us have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me ... survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Crighton, as casually as if I had asked her about the next day's weather, "and I certainly hope that it well help you to survive."

Crighton got to her feet once more and walked around the desk, past Sian and I, and we both turned eagerly in our seats to watch Crighton bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Crighton straightened up, she was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. She placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Sian and I.

"You look worried, Kiara."

I had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension. My previous experiences before this point with the odd device that stored and revealed thought and memories, though highly instructive, had also been uncomfortable. The last time I had entered its contents, I had seen much more than I would have wished. But Crighton was smiling, which reassured my troubled mind slightly.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me ... and, even more ususually, with permission."

"Where are we going, ma'am?"

!For a trip down Boipelo Obama's memory lane," said Crighton, pulling from her pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.

"Who was Boipelo Obama?"

"She was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in South Africa," said Crighton. "She died some time ago, but not before I had tracked her down and persuaded her to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany her on a visit she made in the course of her duties. If you will stand, Kiara ..."

"Ma?" said Sian suddenly.

"Yes, Sian?"

"Do I have to see this, too?"

"Yes, my dear, you do."

"I was afraid of that," Sian muttered as she stood up, but Crighton ignored her, and so did I. I was staring at Crighton, who was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: her injured hand seemed stiff and painful.

"Shall - shall I, ma'am?"

"No matter, Kiara - "

Crighton pointed her wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Ma'am - how did you injure your hand?" I asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Kiara. Not yet. We have an appointment with Boipelo Obama."

Crighton tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas.

"After you, girls," said Crighton, gesturing towards the bowl.

Sian and I bent forwards, took a deep breath each, and plunged our faces into the silvery substance. I felt my feet leave the office floor; I was falling, falling, through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, I was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before my eyes had adjusted, Sian had landed on my left, and Crighton on my right.

We were standing in a rough country lane bordered by high trees beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Some ten feet in front of us stood a short, plump woman wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced her eyes to molelike specks. She was walking quite quickly through the trees in front of us, reading a sign above her as she went. I knew this must be Obama; she was the only person in sight, and she was also wearing the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles: in this case, a one-piece bathing costume covered by a frock-coat and a pair of commando boots. Before I had any time to do more than register her bizarre appearance, however, Obama had walked straight on through the path cutting through the trees.

Crighton, Sian and I followed. As we passed the wooden sign that hung over our heads, I looked up at it and read, 'Port Harcourt, Nigeria'.

We walked a short way with nothing to see but the trees, the wide blue sky overhead and the clomping, one-piece bathing-suited figure ahead, then the path curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down the hillside, so that we had a sudden, unexpected view of a valley laid out in front of us. I could see a village, undoubtedly Port Harcourt, with houses dotted here and there, along with many layers of trees covering the landscape. Across the valley, sat a quite tall, handsome house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn.

Obama had broken into a reluctant trot due to the steep downward slope. Crighton lengthened her stride and Sian and I hurried to keep up with her. I thought Port Harcourt must be our final destination and I wondered, as I had done on the night that Crighton and I had found Beadu, why we had to approach it from such a distance. I soon discovered that I was mistaken in thinking that we were going to the village, however. The rocky path curved to the right, and when we rounded the corner, it was to see the very edge of Obama's bathing-costume vanishing through a gap in the trees.

Crighton, Sian and I followed her on to a narrow dirt track bordered by higher, dead-looking trees than the previous path had been and was potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below us. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the cope, and Crighton, Sian and I came to a halt behind Obama, who had stopped and drawn her wand.

Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool shadows and it was a few seconds before my eyes discerned the building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks. It seemed to me a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the valley below. I wondered whether it was inhabited; it's walls were mossy and the steel that made up the roof was rusting and strips were coming off so that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Just as I had concluded that nobody could possibly live there, however, one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter and a thin trickle of steam or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.

Obama moved forwards quietly and, it seemed to me, rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over me, I stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake.

There was a rustle and a crack and a woman in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on her feet right in front of Obama, who leapt backwards so fast that she tripped over her own feet.

 _"You're not welcome."_

The woman standing before us had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any colour. Several of her teeth were missing. Her eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. She might have looked comical, but she did not; the effect was frightening, and I could not blame Obama for backing away several more paces once she had got back to her feet before she spoke.

"Er - good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic - "

 _"You're not welcome."_

"Er - I'm sorry - I don't understand you," said Obama nervously.

I thought Obama was being extremely dim; the stranger was making herself very clear in my opinion, particularly as she was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

"You understand her, I'm sure, Kiara?" said Crighton quietly.

"Yes, of course," I said, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Obama - ?"

But as my eyes found the dead snake on the door again, I suddenly understood.

"She's speaking Parshydamouth?"

"More specifically?"

I thought again.

"Parseltongue?"

"Very good," said Crighton, nodding and smiling.

The woman in rags was now advancing on Obama, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now, look - " Obama began, but too late: there was a bang, and Obama was on the ground, clutching her nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between her fingers.

"Mashaka!" said a loud voice.

An elderly woman had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind her so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This woman was shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; her shoulders were small and well-rounded and her arms overlong, which, with her bright brown eyes and short scrubby hair and wrinkled face, gave her the look of a powerful, aged monkey. She came to a halt beside the woman with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Obama on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" said the older woman, looking down at Obama.

"Correct!" said Obama angrily, dabbing her face. "And you, I take it, are Ms Mackay?"

"'S right," said Mackay. "Got you in the face, did she?"

"Yes, she did!" snapped Obama.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Mackay aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and expect my daughter not to defend herself."

"Defend herself against what, woman?" said Obama, climbing back to her feet.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."

Obama pointed her wand at her own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once. Mackay spoke out of the corner of her mouth to Mashaka.

 _"Get in the house. Don't argue."_

This time, ready for it, I recognised the Parseltongue; even while I could understand what was being said, I distinguished the weird hissing noise that was all Obama could hear. Mashaka seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when her mother cast her a threatening look she changed her mind, lumbering away to the cottage with an odd rolling gait and slamming the front door behind her, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"It's your daughter I'm here to see, Ms Mackay," said Obama, as she mopped the last of the pus off the front of her bathing costume. "That was Mashaka, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that was Mashaka," said the old woman indifferently. "Are you pure-blood?" she asked, suddenly aggressive.

"That's neither here nor there," said Obama coldly, and I felt my respect for Obama rise.

Apparently Mackay felt rather differently. She squinted into Obama's face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, "Now I've come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village."

"I don't doubt it, if your daughter's been let loose on them," said Obama. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, Ms Mackay. I've already told you. I'm here about Makasha. We sent an owl - "

"I've no use for owls," said Mackay. "I don't open letters."

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," said Obama tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of wizarding law which occurred here in the early hours of this morning - "

"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Mackay. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. Mashaka was sitting on a mattress, the only piece of furniture in the room, beside the smoking fire, twisting a live rattlesnake between her thin fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:

 _"Hissy, hissy, little snakey,_

 _Slither on the floor,_

 _You be good to Mashaka,_

 _Or she'll nail you to the door."_

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window and I realised that there was somebody else in the room, a man whose ragged grey rags were the exact colour of the dirty stone wall behind him. He was standing beside a steaming pot over a small magical fire, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. His hair was lank and he had an ugly, pale, rather heavy face. His eyes, like his sister's, stared in opposite directions. He looked a little cleverer than the two women, but I thought I had never seen a more defeated-looking person.

"My son, Malvolio," said Mackay grudgingly, as Obama looked enquiringly towards him.

"Good morning," said Obama.

He did not answer, but with a frightened glance at his mother he turned his back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind him.

"Well, Ms Mackay," said Obama, "to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your daughter Mashaka performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night."

There was a deafening _clang_. Malvolio had dropped one of the pots.

 _"Pick it up!"_ Mackay bellowed at him. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

"Ms Mackay, please!" said Obama in a shocked voice, as Malvolio, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost his grip on the pot again, drew his wand shakily from his pocket, pointed it at the pot and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from him, hit the opposite wall and crack in two.

Mashaka let out a mad cackle of laughter. Mackay screamed, "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"

Malvolio scrambled across the room, but before he had time to raise his wand, Obama had lifted her own wand and said firmly, _"Reparo."_ The pot mended itself instantly. Mackay looked for a moment as though she was going to shout at Obama, but seemed to think better of it: instead she jeered at her son, "Lucky the nice woman from the Ministry is here, isn't it? Perhaps she will take you off my hands, perhaps she does not mind dirty Squibs ..."

Without looking at anybody or thanking Obama, Malvolio picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. He then stood quite still, his back against the wall between the filthy window and the magical fire, as though he wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.

"Ms Mackay," Obama began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit - "

"I heard you the first time!" snapped Mackay. "And so what? Mashaka gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to her - what about it, then?"

"Mashaka has broken wizarding law," said Obama sternly.

 _"Mashaka has broken wizarding law,"_ Mackay imitated Obama's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Mashaka cackled again. "She taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, and that's illegal now, is it?"

"Yes," said Obama. "I'm afraid it is."

She unrolled the scroll that was clenched in her hand.

"What's that, then, her sentence?" said Mackay, her voice rising angrily.

"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing - "

"Summons! _Summons!_ Who do you think you are, summoning my daughter anywhere?"

"I'm a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, who was sent here by my Head of Department to do what needs to be done following the law," said Obama.

"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Mackay, advancing on Obama now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at her chest. "Sum who will come running when the Ministry tells them to? Do you know who you are talking to, you filthy little Sackbrain, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Ms Mackay," said Obama, looking wary, but standing her ground.

"That's right!" roared Mackay. For a moment, I thought Mackay was making an obscene hand gesture, but then I realised that she was showing Obama the ugly, red-stoned ring she was wearing on her middle finger, waving it before Obama's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it comes from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Passmore coat of arms engraved on the stone?"

"I've really no idea," said Obama, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of her nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Ms Mackay. Your daughter has committed - "

With a howl of rage, Mackay ran towards her son. For a split second, I thought he was going to throttle him as her hand flew towards his throat; next moment, she was dragging him towards Obama by a silver chain around his neck.

"See this?" she bellowed at Obama, shaking a heavy silver locket at her, while Malvolio spluttered and gasped for breath.

"I see it, I see it!" said Obama hastily.

 _"Snake-Eyes!"_ yelled Mackay. "Selena Snake-Eyes! We're her last living descendants, what do you say to that?"

"Ms Mackay, your son!" said Obama in alarm, but Mackay had already released Malvolio; he staggered away from her, back to his corner, massaging his neck and gulping for air.

"So!" said Mackay triumphantly, as though she had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. "Don't you go talking to us as if we are dirt on your shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards all - more than _you_ can say, I don't doubt!"

And she spat on the floor at Obama's feet. Mashaka cackled again. Malvolio, huddled beside the window, his head bowed and his face hidden by his lank hair, said nothing.

"Ms Mackay," said Obama doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter at hand. I am here because of Mashaka, Mashaka and the Muggle she accosted late last night. Our information," she glanced down at her scroll of parchment, "is that Mashaka performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing her to erupt in highly painful hives."

Mashaka giggled.

 _"Be quiet, girl,"_ snarled Mackay in Parseltongue, and Mashaka fell silent again.

"And so what if she did, then?" Mackay said defiantly to Obama. "I expect that you have wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for her, and her memory to boot - "

"That's hardly the point, is it, Ms Mackay?" said Obama. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenceless - "

"You know, I had you marked down as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Mackay, and she spat on the floor again.

"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Obama firmly. "It is clear from your daughter's attitude that she feels no remorse for her actions." She glanced down at her scroll of parchment again. "Mashaka will attend her hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to the same Mugg- "

Obama broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were heard drifting in through the open window. Apparently the path to the village passed very close to the copse where the house stood. Mackay froze, listening, her eyes wide. Mashaka hissed and turned her face towards the sounds, her expression hungry. Malvolio raised his head. His face, I saw, was starkly white.

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a young man's voice, as clearly audible through the open window as if he had stood in the same room beside us. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Dizra?"

"It's not ours," said a young woman's voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that meagre shack belongs to an old tramp called Mackay and her children. The daughter's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village - "

The man laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder. Mashaka made to get up off the mattress.

 _"Keep your seat,"_ said her mother warningly, in Parseltongue.

"Dizra," said the young man's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, "I might be wrong - but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?"

"Good Lord, you're right!" said the young woman's voice. "That'll be the daughter, I told you she's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Chisomo, darling."

The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.

 _" 'Darling' "_ whispered Mashaka in Parseltongue, looking at her brother. _" 'Darling', she called him. So she wouldn't have you anyway."_

Malvolio was so white I felt sure he was going to faint.

 _"What's that?"_ said Mackay sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from her daughter to her son. _"What did you say, Mashaka?"_

 _"He likes looking at that Muggle,"_ said Mashaka, a vicious expression on her face as she stared at her brother, who now looked terrified. _"Always in the garden when she passes, peering through the hedge at her, isn't he? And last night - "_

Malvolio shook his head jerkily, imploringly, but Mashaka went on ruthlessly, _"Hanging out of the window waiting for her to ride home, wasn't he?"_

 _"Hanging out of a window to look at a Muggle?"_ said Mackay quietly.

All three of the Mackays seemed to have forgotten Obama, who was looking both relieved and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping.

 _"Is it true?"_ said Mackay in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two towards the terrified boy. _"My son - pure-blooded descendant of Selena Snake-Eyes - hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"_

Malvolio shook his head frantically, pressing himself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.

 _"But I got her, Mother!"_ cackled Mashaka. " _I got her as she went by, and she didn't look so pretty with hives all over her, did she, Malvolio?"_

 _"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!"_ roared Mackay, losing control, and her hands closed around her son's throat.

Sian, Obama and I yelled "No!" at the same time; Obama raised her wand and cried, _"Relashio!"_ Mackay was thrown backwards, away from her son; she tripped over a corner of the mattress and fell flat on her back. With a roar of rage, Mashaka leapt up off the mattress and ran at Obama, brandishing her bloody knife and flying hexes indiscriminately from her wand.

Obama ran for her life. Crighton indicated that we ought to follow and Sian and I obeyed, Malvolio's screams echoing in my ears.

Obama hurtled up the path and erupted on to the main path, her arms over her head, where she collided with the glossy chestnut horse ridden by a very beautiful, golden-haired young woman. Both she and the handsome lad riding beside her on a black horse roared with laughter at the sight of Obama, who bounced off the horse's flank and set off again, covered from head to foot in dust, her frock coat flying, running pell-mell up the lane.

"I think that will do, girls," said Crighton. She stood in between Sian and I, grabbed us both by the elbow and tugged. Next moment, the three of us were soaring weightlessly through darkness, until we landed squarely on our feet, back in Crighton's now twilit office.

"What happened to the boy in the cottage, Ma?" said Sian at once, as Crighton lit extra lamps with a flick of her wand. "Malvolio, or whatever his name was."

"Oh, he survived," said Crighton, reseating herself behind her desk and indicating that Sian and I should sit down too. "Obama Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Mashaka and her mother attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the shack and subsequently convicted by the South African Wizengamot. Mashaka, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marmarin, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Obama, received six months."

"Marmarin?" Sian repeated wonderingly.

"That's right," said Crighton, smiling in approval. "I am glad to see you are keeping up, Sian. Tell me, do you know who she was?"

"Zira's grandmother, Ma."

"Very good, yes," said Crighton, as I gasped aloud in amazement, finally catching on. "Marmarin, her daughter Mashaka and her son Malvolio were the last of the Mackays, a very ancient wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense combined with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marmarin was born. She, as you both saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that she treasured just as much as her daughter, and rather more than her son."

"So Malvolio," I said, leaning forwards in my chair and staring at Crighton, "so Malvolio was ... ma'am, does that mean that he was ... _Zira's father_?"

"It does," said Crighton. "And it so happens that we also caught a glimpse of Zira's mother. I wonder whether you noticed?"

"The Muggle Mashaka attacked. The woman on the horse?"

"Very good indeed," said Crighton, beaming. "Yes, that was Dizra Maliay Senior, the beautiful Muggle who used to go riding past the Mackay cottage and for whom Malvolio Mackay cherished a secret, burning passion."

"And they ended up married?" I said in disbelief, for I could not imagine two people less likely to fall in love.

"I don't think they got married, Kiara," said Sian, a disturbed look on her face. "I think they just ... ran away together."

Crighton nodded her head. "I agree with Sian, Kiara, for you are forgetting that Zira's last name is Maliay. I also think you are forgetting that Malvolio was a wizard. I do not believe that his magical powers appeared to their best advantage when he was being terrorised by his mother. Once Marmarin and Mashaka were safely in Azkaban, once he was alone and free for the first time in his life, then, I am sure, he was able to give full rein to his abilities and to plot his escape from the despicable life he had led for eighteen years.

"Can you think of any measure Malvolio could have taken to make Dizra Maliay forget her Muggle companion, and fall in love with him instead?"

"The Imperius Curse?" I suggested. "Or a love potion?"

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that he used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to him and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Maliay was riding alone, to persuade her to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed the village of Port Harcourt enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's daughter ran off with the tramp's son Malvolio.

"But the villager's shock was nothing compared to Marmarin's. She returned from Azkaban, expecting to find her son dutifully awaiting her return with a hot meal ready on her mattress. Instead, she found a clear inch of dust and his note of farewell, explaining what he had done.

"From all that I have been able to discover, she never mentioned his name or existence from that time forth. The shock of his desertion may have contributed to her early death - or perhaps she had never learned how to cook properly. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marmarin, and she did not live to see Mashaka return to the shack."

"And Malvolio? He ... he died, didn't he? Wasn't Zira brought up in an orphanage?"

"Yes, indeed," said Crighton. "We must do a certain amount of guesswork here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their ... elopement, shall we say - Dizra Maliay appeared at the manor house in Port Harcourt without Malvolio. The rumour flew around the neighbourhood that she was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in'. What she meant, I am sure, is that she had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay she did not use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what she was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Malvolio had lied to Dizra Maliay, pretending that he was going to marry her and take care of any children they would have had together."

"But they did have a baby together."

"Yes, but not until a year after they eloped. As soon as Dizra Maliay had the baby, she left her with Malvolio and ran off."

"What went wrong?" I asked. "Why did the love potion stop working?"

"Again, this is guesswork," said Crighton, "but I believe that Malvolio, who was deeply in love with Dizra Maliay, could not bear to continue enslaving her by magical means. I believe that he made the choice to stop giving her the potion. Perhaps, besotted as he was, he had convinced himself that she would by now have fallen in love with him in return. Perhaps he thought she would stay for the baby's sake. If so, he was wrong on both counts. As I said, she left after the baby was born, once she was strong enough to move, and never discovered what became of her daughter."

The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Crighton's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.

"I think that will do for tonight, girls," said Crighton after a moment or two.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

I got to my feet, and as Sian was starting to rise, Crighton said, "Sian, I would like you to stay behind, please." Sian blinked in surprise, then sat down again."

"Ma'am ... is it important to know all this about Zira's past?"

"Very important, I think," said Crighton.

"And it's ... it's got something to do with the prophecy?"

"It has everything to do with the prophecy."

"Right," I said, a little confused, but reassured all the same.

I turned to go, but another question occurred to me, and I turned back again.

"Ma'am, are Sian and I allowed to tell Chris and Chrissie everything you've told us?"

Crighton considered me for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think Chris and Chrissie have proved themselves trustworthy. But Kiara, I am going to ask you and Sian to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around of how much I know, or suspect, about Lady Zira's secrets."

"Of course not, Ma, we'll make sure it's just Chris and Chrissie who know," Sian said. "Won't we, Kiara?"

"Yes, of course we will," I said. "Goodnight, ma'am."

I turned away again, and I was almost at the door when I saw it. Sitting on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many frail-looking silver instruments was an ugly silver ring, set with a large, cracked blood-red stone.

"Ma'am," I said, staring at it. "That ring - "

"Yes?" said Crighton.

"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Beadu that night."

"So I was," Crighton agreed.

"But isn't it ... ma'am, isn't it the same ring Marmarin Mackay showed Obama?"

Crighton bowed her head.

"The very same."

"But how come - ? Have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently," said Crighton. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your grandmothers', in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, ma'am?"

"Around that time, yes, Kiara."

I hesitated. Crighton was smiling.

"Ma'am, how exactly - ?"

"Too late, Kiara! You shall hear the story another time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, ma'am."

As I left the office, I turned to see Sian embracing her mother; they were holding each other so tightly it seemed that neither wanted to let the other go.

 **AN: I'm sorry to use the surname Obama. She is not linked to any of the Obamas. It just happened that way. More still to come.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Sian's Helping Hand**

 **KIARA**

As Sian had predicted, the free periods that we sixth-years had were not the hours of blissful relaxation Chrissie had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework we were being set. Not only were we studying as though we had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. I barely understood half of what Professor Darbus said to us in those days; even Sian had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. Incredibly, and to Sian's increasing resentment, my best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Princess.

Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration, too. I frequently looked over at my classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on The Dark Sludge Deuce; but I knew that they were really struggling to make spells without saying incantations aloud. It was a relief to get outside into the greenhouses; we were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in the greenhouses, but at least we were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venemous Tentacular seized us unexpectedly from behind.

On Wednesday, I got a reply from my father. This is what it said.

 _Dear Kiara,_

 _Your mother and I are fine. She's having cravings, it's true - pickles and mayonnaise. At least this time it's not anchovies like she had with you. Sometimes I swear I can still smell them._

 _I told your mother about you standing up to Triphorm like that, and when she heard she laughed and asked me to tell you good on you. I, however, think differently. I know that she's not your favourite person in the world, Kiara (nor is she ours), but she's still your teacher and therefore deserves some respect for you. I know it's hard, Kiara, but I'm thinking about your future outside school here, and I don't want it ruined because of this hatred you and Triphorm have for each other._

 _Now, I'm glad to hear that you've made quite the impression on Professor Beadu. Knowing her as I do, she'll probably invite you to one of her little parties that she likes to host. They're quite boring, if I'm honest, but they're not too bad. Anyway, it's good to know you're doing well in Potions, and I hope that after this detention with Triphorm is over that you will keep your head down and try to not get in any more trouble, all right?_

 _I've got to go. Your mother sends her love, as do I._

 _Love,_

 _Daddy_

One result of our enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing non-verbal spells was that Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had so far been unable to go and visit Mina. She had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when we passed her in the corridors or out in the grounds, she had mysteriously failed to notice us or hear our greetings.

"We've got to go and explain," said Sian, looking up at Mina's huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.

"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Chrissie. " _And_ we're supposed to be practicing that _Aquamenti_ charm for Winds! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell her we hated her stupid subject?"

"We didn't hate it!" said Sian.

"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the Crabs," said Chrissie darkly. "And I'm telling you now, we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear her going on about her gormless sister - we'd have been teaching Harlow how to tie her shoelaces if we'd stayed."

"That doesn't mean we can just ignore Mina for the rest of our lives, Chrissie," said Chris. "No matter what she's said or asked us to do for her in the past, Mina's still our friend, and friends matter."

Sian nodded in agreement.

"Chris is right," she said. "Besides, I hate not talking to Mina. I miss her."

"We'll go down after Quidditch," I assured her. I, too, was missing Mina, although like Chrissie I thought that we were better off without Harlow in our lives. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied." I felt slightly nervous at confronting the first hurdle of my captaincy. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

"Oh, come on, Kiara!" said Sian, suddenly impatient. "It's not _Quidditch_ that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting and, frankly, you've never been more fanciable among most of the boys in this school."

Chris gagged on a large piece of kipper. Chrissie looked at him strangely, as Sian spared him one look of disdain before turning back to me.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Zira being back and that you really have fought her twice in the last two years and you escaped both times. And now they're calling you the 'Chosen One' - well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

I was finding the Great Hall very hot all of a sudden, even though the ceiling still looked cold and rainy.

"And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks where that evil man made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your own story anyway ..."

"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," said Chrissie, shaking back her sleeves.

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer, either," Sian finished, ignoring Chrissie.

"I'm tall," said Chrissie inconsequently. Sian wisely chose not to reply to that comment.

"So, Chris," I said, turning to him, "will you come down with us to see Mina later, or will you be stuck with Dena all afternoon?"

"Erm, I think Dena wanted us to spend some time together after tryouts, but sure I'll come down with you," he said, smiling at me, and his words made me fell happy. I tried to tell myself that the reason for my happiness had nothing to do with Chris not spending all of his Saturday with Dena, but I couldn't stop myself from smiling, as the little person inside of me was cheering and doing a happy dance.

The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering all of us with droplets of water. Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. After I received my father's letter, I decided to wait a while before writing to my parents again, so I was therefore surprised when I saw Harold circling amongst all the brown and grey owls. He landed in front of me carrying, not another letter from my parents, but a large, square package instead. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Chrissie, crushing beneath it her miniscule and exhausted owl, Piggledon.

"Ha!" I said, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh good," said Sian, delighted. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."

"Are you mad?" I said. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out - "

I pulled the old copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of my bag and tapped the cover with my wand, muttering, _"Diffindo!"_ The cover fell off. I did the same thing with the brand new book (Sian looked scandalised). I then swapped the covers, tapped each and said, _"Reparo!"_

There sat the Princess' copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly second-hand.

"I'll give Beadu back the new one. She can't complain. It cost nine Galleons."

Sian pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day's copy of the _Daily Squabbler_. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.

"Anyone we know dead?" asked Chris in a determinedly casual voice; he posed the same question every time Sian opened her paper.

"No, but there have been more Stinger attacks," said Sian. "And an arrest."

"Excellent, anyone we may have heard of?" I said, thinking of Katalina Outsider.

"No," said Sian, and my excited feeling changed to that of disappointment.

"What does the article say, Sian?" said Chrissie.

"Well, it says here that the woman in question, Seraphina Sawyer, was arrested for suspected Love Destroyer activity."

"She might have been put under the Imperius Curse," said Chrissie reasonably. "You never can tell."

"It doesn't look like it," said Sian, who was still reading. "It says here she was arrested after she was overheard talking about the Love Destroyers' secret plans in a pub." She looked up with a troubled expression on her face. "If she was under the Imperius Curse, she'd hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would she?"

"You never know," said Chris suddenly, shrugging, "this might be something the Ministry made up, you know, to give people a morale boost."

"That's actually not bad thinking on your part, Rickers," said Sian. "After all, the Ministry wants to look like they're doing something, don't they? People are terrified - you know Parry Party's parents want him to go home? And Elliot Miggs has already been withdrawn. His mother picked him up last night."

"What?" said Chrissie, goggling at Sian. "But Dragon Mort is safer than their homes, bound to be! We've got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we've got Ma!"

"I don't think we've got her all the time," said Sian very quietly, glancing towards the staff table over the top of the _Squabbler_. "Haven't you noticed? Her seat's been empty as often as Mina's this past week."

Chris, Chrissie and I looked up at the staff table. The Headmistress' chair was indeed empty. Now that I come to think of it, I had not seen Crighton since the private lesson Sian and I had had with her a week ago. And speaking of Sian ...

She was wearing the same mixed expression of sadness and pain she had worn when she joined Chrissie and I back in the common room half an hour after the meeting with Crighton had finished, except that her eyes were not red this time. I wondered what had happened to Sian to cause this misery, for normally Sian would have covered her feelings well, but when it came to her mother ... well, Sian adored her mother; you could see how much they loved each other the moment you saw them hug. So whatever had happened to her mother must have been pretty bad to have such an effect on Sian.

"I think she's left the school to do something with the Order," said Sian in a low voice, recovering quickly. "I mean ... it's all looking serious, isn't it?"

Chris, Chrissie and I did not answer, but I knew that we were all thinking the same thing. There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hendry Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told his father had been found dead. We had not seen Hendry since.

When we left the Lion-Heart table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, we passed Larry Brown and Perry Party. Remembering what Sian had said about Perry's parents wanting him to leave Dragon Mort, I was unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise me was that when Chrissie drew level with them, Perry suddenly nudged Larry, who looked round and gave Chrissie a smouldering look. Chrissie blinked at him, then blushed and looked away shyly from Larry's attention. As soon as we left the Hall, Chrissie raised her head, still blushing, but also smiling like an idiot. I resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Chrissie had refrained from doing so after Malty had broken my nose. Chris did look amused by this, but somehow managed not to laugh; Sian, however, had her eyes narrowed at Chrissie, and was cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and when we got to the Quidditch pitch, she turned to Chris and said quickly, and a little coldly, "Good luck, Rickers," before she turned on her heel and headed for the stands, without wishing Chrissie any luck at all.

As I had expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of Lion-Heart house seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh-years who towered over the rest looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy I recognised immediately from the Dragon Mort Subs.

"We met on the Subs, in old Beady's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake my hand. "Conrad MacGuire, Keeper."

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" I asked, taking note of the breadth of MacGuire and thinking that he would probably block all three goalhoops without even moving.

"Right," I said. "Well ... if you wait over there ..."

I pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Sian was sitting. I thought I saw a flicker of annoyance pass over MacGuire's face and I wondered whether MacGuire expected preferential treatment because we were both 'old Beady's' favourites.

I decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first-years and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one girl managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and she was so surprised she promptly crashed into one of the goalposts.

The second group comprised ten of the silliest boys I had ever encountered, who, when I blew my whistle, merely fell about laughing and clutching each other. Ronnie Vaughn was amongst them. When I told them to leave the pitch they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

The third group had a pile-up halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Badger-Stripes.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Lion-Heart," I roared, starting to get annoyed, "leave now, please!"

There was a pause, then a couple of little Raven-Wings went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

After two hours, many complaints and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, I had found myself three Chasers: Keith Ball, returned to the team after an excellent trial, a new find called Danny Roberts, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers, and Chris Rickers, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot. Pleased though I was with my choices, I had also shouted myself hoarse at the many complainers and I was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.

"That's my final decision, and if you don't get out of the way for the Keepers, I'll hex you," I bellowed.

Neither of my chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Tanya and Geri, but I was still reasonably pleased with them: Jenny Peet, a small but strong-armed third-year who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of my head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Roxi Cartwright, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Keith, Danny and Chris in the stands to watch the selection of our last team member.

I had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever. As each Keeper flew up to the goalhoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. I glanced over at Chrissie, who had always had a problem with nerves; I had hoped that winning our final match last term might have cured it, but apparently not: Chrissie was a delicate shade of green.

None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To my great disappointment, Conrad MacGuire saved four penalties out of five. On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and MacGuire returned to the ground grinding his teeth.

Chrissie looked ready to pass out as she mounted her Cleansweep Twenty-Four.

"Good luck!" cried a voice from the stands. I looked around, expecting to see Sian, but it was Larry Brown. I would have quite liked to have hid my face in my hands, as he did a moment later, but I thought that as the Captain I ought to show slightly more grit, and so I held my head up high, and turned to watch Chrissie do her trial.

Yet I need not have worried: Chrissie saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, and resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with difficulty, I turned MacGuire to tell him that, most unfortunately, Chrissie had beaten him, only to find MacGuire's red face inches from my own. I stepped back hastily.

"Her brother didn't really try," said MacGuire menacingly. There was a vein pulsing off in his temple. "He gave her an easy save."

"Rubbish," I said coldly. "That was the one she nearly missed."

MacGuire took a step nearer to me, but I stood my ground.

"Give me another go," he said.

"No," I said. "You've had your go. You saved four. Chrissie saved five. Chrissie's Keeper, she won it fair and square. Get out of my way."

I thought for a moment that MacGuire was going to punch me, but he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air.

I turned round to find my new team beaming at me.

"Well done," I croaked. "You flew really well - "

"You did brilliantly, Chrissie!"

This time it really was Sian running towards us from the stands; I saw Larry walking off the pitch, with Perry by his side, a rather grumpy expression on his face. Chrissie looked extremely pleased with herself and even taller than usual as she grinned around at the team and Sian.

After fixing the time of our first full practice for the following Thursday, and after Chris told Dena that he was going to see Mina but would catch up with her later (I looked away as they embraced, trying to hide my disgust), Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I bade goodbye to the rest of the team and headed off towards Mina's. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last. I felt extremely hungry; I hoped there would be something to eat at Mina's.

"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Chrissie was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Danny, did you see, had a bit of a spin on it - "

"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Sian, looking amused.

"I was better than that MacGuire anyway," said Chrissie in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded ..."

To my surprise, Sian stopped looking at Chrissie after she had said those words; I noticed Chris looking at her slyly, too; Chrissie, on the other hand, noticed nothing; she was too busy describing each of her penalties in loving detail.

The great grey Hippogriff, Noelani, was tethered in front of Mina's cabin. She clicked her razor-sharp beak at our approach and turned her huge head towards us.

"Oh dear," said Sian nervously. "She's still a bit scary, isn't she?"

"Come off it, you've ridden her, haven't you?" said Chrissie.

I stepped forwards and bowed low to the Hippogriff without breaking eye contact or blinking. After a few seconds, Noelani sank into a bow too.

"How are you?" I asked her in a low voice, moving forwards to stroke the feathery head. "Missing them? But you're Ok with Mina, aren't you?"

"Oi!" said a loud voice.

Mina had come striding round the corner of her cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. Her enormous boarhound, Gnasher, was at her heels; Gnasher gave a booming bark and bounded forwards.

"Get away from her! She'll have yer fingers - oh, it's yer lot."

Gnasher was jumping up at Sian and Chrissie, attempting to lick their ears. Mina stood and looked at us for a split second, then turned and strode into her cabin, slamming the door behind her.

"Oh dear!" said Sian, looking stricken.

"Don't worry about it," I said grimly. I walked over to the door and knocked loudly.

"Mina! Open up, we want to talk to you!"

There was no sound from within.

"If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!" I said, pulling out my wand.

"Kiara!" said Sian, sounding shocked. "You can't possibly - "

"Yeah, I can!" I said. "Stand back - "

But before I could say anything else, the door flew open again as I had known it would, and there stood Mina, glowering down at me and looking, despite the flowery pinny, positively alarming.

"I'm a teacher!" she roared at me. "A teacher, Pride-Lander! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"

"I'm sorry, _ma'am_ ," I said, emphasising the last word as I stowed my wand inside my robes. Mina looked stunned.

"Since when have _yeh_ called me 'ma'am'?"

"Since when have you called me 'Pride-Lander'?"

"Oh, very clever," growled Mina. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little ..."

Mumbling darkly, she stood back to let us pass. Sian passed Mina apprehensively.

"Well?" said Mina grumpily, as Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I sat down around her enormous wooden table, Gnasher laying her head down immediately upon my knee and drooling all over my robes. "What's this? Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"

"No," I said at once. "We wanted to see you."

"We've missed you!" said Sian nervously.

"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Mina. "Yeah. Righ'."

She stomped around, brewing up tea in her enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally she slammed down four bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of us and a plate of her (infamous) rock cakes. I was hungry enough even for Mina's cooking, and I took one at once.

"Mina," said Sian nervously, when she joined us at the table and started peeling her potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done her a great personal wrong, "we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know."

Mina gave another great snort. I rather thought some bogies landed on the potatoes, and I was inwardly glad that we were not staying for dinner.

"We did!" said Sian. "But none of us could fit it into our timetables!"

"Yeah. Righ'," said Mina again.

There was a funny squelching sound and we all looked around: Chrissie let out a tiny shriek and both Chris and Sian leapt out of their seats and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner that we had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots; slimy, white and writhing.

"What are they, Mina?" I asked, trying to sound interested rather than revolted, but I put down my rock cake all the same.

"Jus' giant grubs," said Mina.

"And they grow into ...?" said Chrissie, looking apprehensive.

"They won' grow inter nuthin'," said Mina. "I got 'em ter feed Aratota."

And without warning, she burst into tears.

"Mina!" cried Sian, hurrying back to the table, but taking the long way around to avoid the barrel of maggots to put a comforting arm around her shaking shoulders. "What is it?"

"It's ... her ..." gulped Mina, her beetle-brown eyes streaming as she mopped her face with her apron. "It's ... Aratota ... I think she's dyin' ... she got ill over the summer an' she's not gettin' better ... I don' know what I'll do if she ... if she ... we've been tergether so long ..."

Sian patted Mina's shoulder, looking at a complete loss for anything to say. I knew how she felt. I had known Mina to present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen her croon over giant crabs with a fat, fire-shooting, earth-shuddering muscle, attemot to reason with her brutal giant of a half-sister, but this was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all her monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider, Aratota, that dwelled deeply in the Black Forest and which Chris, Chrissie and I had only narrowly escaped in our second year.

"Is there - is there anything we can do?" Sian asked, ignoring Chrissie's frantic grimaces and head-shakings.

"I don' think there is, Sian," choked Mina, attempting to stem the flood of her tears. "See, the rest o' the tribe ... Aratota's family ... they're gettin' a bit funny now she's ill ... bit restive ..."

"Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side to them," said Chrissie in an undertone.

" ... I don' reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo'," Mina finished, blowing her nose hard on her apron and looking up. "But thanks fer offerin', Sian ... it means a lot ..."

After that the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although neither myself nor Chris nor Chrissie showed any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, gargantuan spider, Mina seemed to take it for granted that we would have liked to have done and became her usual self once more.

"Ar, I always knew yeh'd fins it hard ter squeeze me inter yeh timetables," she said gruffly, pouring us more tea. "Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners - "

"We couldn't have done," said Sian. "We smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there in the summer. It was in the _Daily Squabbler_."

"Ar, well then," said Mina. "There's no way yeh could've done it ... I'm sorry I've bin - yeh know - I've jus' bin worried abou' Aratota ... an' I did wonder, if Professor Smutty-Stave had tin teachin' yeh - "

At which the four of us stated categorically and untruthfully that Smutty-Stave, who had substituted for Mina a few times, was a dreadful teacher, with the result that by the time Mina waved us off the premises at dusk, she looked quite cheerful.

"I'm starving," I said, once the door had closed behind us and we were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds; I had abandoned the rock cake after an ominous, cracking noise from one of my back teeth. "And I've got that detention with Triphorm tonight, I haven't got much time for dinner ..."

As we entered the castle we spotted Conrad MacGuire entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Chrissie merely giggled gloatingly and strode off after him, but Chris and I caught Sian's arms and we held her back.

"What?" said Sian defensively.

"If you ask me," I said quietly, "MacGuire looked like he _was_ Confunded. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."

Sian blushed.

"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about you, Rickers, and Chrissie, too! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get it - you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."

"She's got a point, Kiara," Chris whispered. I hesitated, nodded, and turned back to Sian.

"No," I said. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Sian? I mean, you're a Prefect, aren't you?"

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, as Chris and I smirked.

"What are you three doing?" demanded Chrissie, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.

"Nothing," Chris, Sian and I said together, and we hurried after Chrissie. The smell of roast beef made my stomach ache with hunger, but we had barely taken three steps towards the Lion-Heart table when Professor Beadu appeared in front of us, blocking our path.

"Kiara, Kiara, just the girl I was hoping to see!" she boomed genially, sweeping a few loose strands of her hair back elegantly with her long, bony fingers. "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got MacGuire coming, and Zamba, the charming Marcus Bowling - I don't know whether you know him? His family owns a large chain of Quidditch supply stores - and, of course, I very much hope that Miss Dawson and Mr Rickers will favour me by coming, too."

Beadu made both Sian and Chris a small curtsey as she finished speaking. It was as though Chrissie was not present; Beadu did not so much as look at her.

"I can't come, Professor," I said at once. "I've got a detention with Professor Triphorm."

"Oh dear!" said Beadu, her face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Kiara! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Tiana and explain the situation, I'm sure I'll be able to persuade her to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see the three of you later!"

She bustled away out of the Hall.

"She's got no chance of persuading Triphorm," I said, the moment Beadu was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed once; Triphorm did it for Crighton, but she won't do it for anyone else."

"Oh, I wish you could come, I don't want to go on my own!" said Sian anxiously; I knew that she was thinking about MacGuire.

"You're not going to be on your own, Sian," said Chris. "I'm going to be there with you." He flashed Sian a reassuring smile, and she smiled back, not quite comforted, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Great, so all of you have plans except me," Chrissie grumbled, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Beadu.

We were then stopped by Dena, who was glaring at Chris, and all but dragged him to where she and Zara were sat together, ignoring Sian, Chrissie and I completely. The three of us walked down the Lion-Heart table, trying not to be happy at how mad Dena was at Chris

After dinner Sian, Chrissie and I made our way back to Lion-Heart Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but we managed to find a free table and sat down; Chrissie, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Beadu, folded her arms and frowned at the ceiling. Sian reached out for a copy of the _Evening Squabbler_ , which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.

"Anything new?" I said.

"Not really ..." Sian had opened the newspaper and was scanning the inside pages. "Oh, Chrissie, look, Dad's mentioned in here - he's all right!" she added quickly, for Chrissie had looked round in alarm. "It just says he's been to visit the Malty's house. _'This second search of the Love Destroyers' residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Matthew Dawson of the Office of the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon a confidential tip-off.'_ "

"Yeah, mine!" I said. "I told him at the Sub House about Malty and that thing she was trying to get Borrin to fix! Well, if it's not at their house, she must have brought whatever it is to Dragon Mort with her - "

"But how can she have done, Kiara?" said Sian, putting down the newspaper with a surprised look. "We were all searched when we arrived, weren't we?"

"Were you?" I said, taken aback. "I wasn't!"

"Oh no, of course you weren't, I forgot you were late ... well, Match ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the Entrance Hall. Any Dark object would have been found, I know for a fact Crate had a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malty can't have brought in anything dangerous!"

Momentarily steamied, I looked to where Chris was with Dena, his long, strong hands with flexible fingers stroking Dena's hair for a while before I saw a way around this objection.

"Someone's sent it to her by owl, then," I said. "Her father or someone."

"All the owls are being checked, too," said Sian. "Match told us so when he was jabbing those Secrecy Sensors everywhere he could reach."

Really stumped this time, I found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malty could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school. I looked hopefully at Chrissie, who was sitting with her arms folded, staring over at Larry Brown.

"Can you think of any way Malty - ?"

"Oh, drop it, Kiara," said Chrissie.

"Listen, it's not my fault Beadu invited Chris, Sian and I to her stupid party, none of us wanted to go, you know!" I said, firing up.

"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," said Chrissie, getting to her feet again, "I think I'll got to bed."

She stomped off for the staircase to the dormitories, leaving Sian and I staring after her. After a few minutes had passed, I turned to stare at Chris again, and from where I was sitting I could see his forest-green eyes sparkling as brightly as the sun shining through dappled leaves, and for the second time that day I was taken aback by how bright and ... _beautiful_ his eyes were when he was happy, and how dark they got when he was angry, for they looked as dark as darkened leaves.

"Kiara?" said the new Chaser, Danny Roberts, appearing suddenly at my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts. "I've got a message for you."

"From Professor Beadu?" I asked, sitting up hopefully.

"No ... from Professor Triphorm," said Danny. My heart sank. "She says you're to come to her office at half past eight tonight to do your detention - er - no matter how many party invitations you've received. And she wanted you to know you'll be sorting out Flobberwomrs from good ones, to use in Potions, and - and she says there's no need to bring protective gloves."

"Right," I said grimly. "Thanks a lot, Danny."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **Silver and Opals**

 **KIARA**

I wondered not only where Crighton was, but also, what was she doing? I caught sight of the Headmistress only twice over the next few weeks. She rarely appeared at meals any more, and I was sure Sian was right in thinking that she was leaving the school for days at a time. I wondered if Crighton had forgotten about the lessons she was supposed to be giving Sian and I. Crighton had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; I had felt bolstered, comforted, and now I felt slightly abandoned.

Halfway through October came our first trip of the term to Dragsmeade. I had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but I was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

I woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and I whiled away the time until breakfast by rereading my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. I did not usually lie in reading my textbooks; that sort of behaviour, as Chris and Chrissie both rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Sian, who was simply ... odd that way - although, if I remember rightly, she did have a copy of _Jane Eyre_ on her bedside table that she was reading at night. Anyhoo, I felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princess' copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ hardly qualified as a textbook. The more I pored over the book, the more I realised how much was in there, not only the handy hints and short cuts on potions that were earning me such a glowing reputation with Beadu, but also that imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins which I was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Princess had invented herself.

I had already attempted a few of the Princess' self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (I had tried this on Crate in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx the glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which I had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Douglas Match); and, perhaps most useful of all, _Muffliato_ , a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Sian, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk to me at all if I had used the _Muffliato_ spell on anyone in the vicinity.

Sitting up in bed, I turned the book sideways so as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have caused the Princess some trouble. There were many crossings-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

 _Levicorpus (n-vbl)_

While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows and Chrissie snored loudly, I stared at the letters in brackets. _N-vbl_ ... that had to mean non-verbal. I rather doubted I would be able to bring off this particular spell; I was still having trouble with non-verbal spells, something Triphorm had been quick to comment on in every Defence Against the Dark Arts class. On the other hand, the Princess had proved a much more effective teacher than Triphorm so far.

Pointing my wand at nothing in particular, I gave it an upward flick and said _Levicorpus!_ inside my head.

"Aaaaaaargh!"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: everyone else had woken up as Chrissie had let out a yell. I sent _Advanced Potion-Making_ flying in panic; Chrissie was dangling upside-down in mid-air as though an invisible hook had hoistered her up by the ankle. She was trying to cover up her knickers with her nightgown, as her face reddened in embarrassment.

Beth and Merida were laughing merrily, and Kestrel, after she had gotten over her initial shock at Chrissie's yell, was chuckling weakly. I was laughing too, until -

"Get my sister down now, Kiara!"

Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel, Merida and I stopped laughing the moment we had heard Sian's loud, thunderous voice crashing in on our joy. We all turned to face her, and saw that Sian had eyes for no one but me. Her face was a mixture of shock, horror and outrage; her eyes were wide and unblinking and her nostrils were flared. Beth, Kestrel and Merida all seemed to cower under her stare, and even I was frightened of her in that moment. Chrissie, wisely, chose to say nothing.

"Get. Her. Down," Sian repeated in a deadly voice. I gulped nervously, and groped for the potion book with trembling hands, and rifled through it hurriedly, trying to find the page; at last I located it and deciphered one cramped word underneath the spell: praying that this was the counter-jinx, I thought _Liberacorpus!_ with all my might.

There was another flash of light and Chrissie fell in a heap on to her mattress.

I turned to look nervously at Sian, whose expression still looked quite dangerous. "Sorry, Sian," I said anxiously.

Sian shook her head furiously, before she threw off the covers and leapt out of bed.

By the time we had got dressed, padding ourselves out with several of Sian's hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves and gloves, Chrissie's shock had subsided and she had decided that my new spell was highly amusing - unlike Sian, who was treating me with frosty indifference. Anyhoo, Chrissie found the spell so amusing, in fact, that she lost no time in regaling Chris with the story as we sat down for breakfast.

" ... and then there was another flash of light, and I landed on the bed again!" grinned Chrissie, helping herself to sausages.

Chris laughed, but stopped quickly at the look on Sian's face. I looked at her, and found her studying me with an expression of wintry disapproval.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked.

I frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well ... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen? And on my sister, no less?"

"What does it matter if it's handwritten?" I said, preferring not to answer the rest of the first question and ignore all of the second question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic-approved," said Sian. "And also," she added, as Chris, Chrissie and I rolled our eyes, "because I'm starting to think that this Princess character was a bit dodgy."

Chris, Chrissie and I shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Chrissie, up-ending a kitchen bottle over her sausages. "Just a laugh, Sian, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside-down by the ankle?" said Sian. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Tanya and Geri," said Chris, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing. And, er - "

"My mum," I said. I had only just remembered.

"What?" said Chris, Sian and Chrissie together.

"My mum used this spell," I said. "I - she told me."

This last part was not true; in fact, I had seen my mother use the spell on Triphorm, but I had never told Chris, Sian and Chrissie about that particular excursion into the Pensieve, until some time after the Great Battle of Dragon Mort. Anyhoo, a wonderful possibility then occurred to me. Could the Half-Blood Princess possibly be - ?

"Maybe your mum did use it, Kiara," said Sian, "but she's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

I stared at her. With a sinking feeling I, too, remembered the behaviour of the Love Destroyers at the Quidditch Friendly. Chrissie came to my aid.

"That was different," she said robustly. "They were abusing it. Kiara and her mum were just having a laugh. You don't like the Princess, Sian," she added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because she's better than you at Potions - "

"It's got nothing to do with that!" said Sian, her cheeks reddening. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Princess' as if it's her title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname and it doesn't seem as though she was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you get that from," I said heatedly, "if she'd been a budding Love Destroyer, she wouldn't have been boasting about being 'Half-Blood', would she?"

Even as I said it, I remembered that my mother was a Muggle-born, but I pushed the thought out of my mind; I would worry about that later ...

"The Love Destroyers can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Sian stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns and Bright-brains they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you, Chris and Chrissie join up."

"There is no way they'd let me or Chris be Love Destroyers!" said Chrissie indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork she was now brandishing at Sian and hitting Emily Mac on the back of the head. "You, me and Chris are all part of the same family, Sian, and not just that, but we're all blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns and Bright-brains to the Loves Destroyers!"

"And they'd _love_ to have me," I said sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

That made both Chris and Chrissie laugh; even Sian gave a grudging laugh, and then a distraction came when Chris pulled something out of his pocket.

"Oh, I just remembered, Kiara, that I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with mine and Sian's names written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Chris ... it's Crighton's next lesson!" I told Chris, Sian and Chrissie, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. "Monday evening!" I felt suddenly light and happy. "Are you going to join us in Dragsmeade, Chris?" I asked.

"I'm going with Dena - might see you there," he replied, getting up and waving to us as he left.

As soon as he had left us, the light and happy feeling within me was suddenly extinguished, as though someone had quickly snuffed out a candle. I remember feeling - not empty, but hollow, somehow, like a part of me had left with him that I hadn't recognised until that moment. I supposed it was because it felt so natural that he was with Sian, Chrissie and I all the time, that I found it quite odd for Chris to be anywhere else but with us.

Match was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Dragsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Match was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Chrissie, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

Her cheek earned her a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and she was still wincing as we stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Dragsmeade was not enjoyable. I wrapped my scarf over the lower part of my face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once I wondered whether we might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when we finally reached Dragsmeade and saw that Whacko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, I took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Chrissie pointed with a thickly gloved hand towards the Sugarshack, which was mercifully open, and Sian and I staggered in her wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Chrissie, as we were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"Kiara, m'dear," said a booming voice from behind us.

"Oh, no," I muttered. The three of us turned to see Professor Beadu, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple and was by far the tallest person there.

"Kiara, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Beadu, poking me genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'dear, I'm determined to have you! Miss Dawson loves them, don't you?"

"Yes," said Sian hopelessly, "they're really - "

"So, why don't you come along, Kiara?" demanded Beadu.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," I said, for I had indeed been scheduling practices every time Beadu had sent me a little violet-ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Chrissie was not left out and we usually had a laugh imagining Sian shut up with MacGuire and Zamba.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Beadu. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather ..."

"I can't, Professor, I've got - er - and appointment with Professor Crighton that evening, and so had Sian."

Beadu looked at Sian, surprised at this last piece of information. "And what can the Headmistress possibly want with _you_ , Miss Dawson?"

Sian brought herself up to her full height and said proudly, "The Headmistress happens to be my mother, ma'am."

Beadu then looked at Sian as though she had just seen her for the first time, then exclaimed, so loudly that a couple of third-years jumped so violently that the gum they had been chewing spat out of each other's mouths and got stuck in their hair, "Merlin's beard, _that's_ why you look so familiar to me! But why did you not tell me before?"

Sian giggled and said, "Well, I wanted to see how long it'd take you to work it out. And I must admit, ma'am, that it makes a nice change for me not to hear, _'Wow, the resemblance between you and your mother really is uncanny,'_ for once."

"Well, this is a surprise to me, but I suppose I'll get over it soon enough," said Beadu. Sian giggled again. Beadu then turned back to me and said, "I will get you to come to one of my suppers soon, Kiara! You can't avoid me for ever!"

And with a regal wave, she sauntered out of the shop, taking as little notice of Chrissie as though she had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Sian, shaking her head. "They're not _that_ bad, you know ... they're even quite fun sometimes ..." But then she caught sight of Chrissie's expression. "Oh, look - they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills - those would last hours!"

Glad that Sian had changed the subject, I showed much more interest in the new extra-large Sugar Quills than I would normally have done, but Chrissie continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Sian asked her where she wanted to go next.

"Let's go to the Flying Owls," I said. "It'll be warm."

We bundled our scarves back over our faces and left the sweet shop. The bitter wind was like knives on our faces after the sugary warmth of the Sugarshack. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying towards their destinations. The expectations were two women a little ahead of us, standing just outside the Flying Owls. One was very tall and thin; I recognised the landlady who worked in the other Dragsmeade pub, the Dragon's Eye. As Sian, Chrissie and I drew closer, the landlady drew her cloak more tightly around her neck and walked away, leaving the shorter woman to fumble with something in her arms. We were barely feet from her when I realised who the woman was.

"Mona!"

The squat, bandy-legged woman with long straggly ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, Kiara," said Mona Fetch, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."

And she began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of her suitcase with every appearance of a woman eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" I asked, watching Mona grabbing an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mona. "Gimme that!"

Chrissie had stooped down and picked up something silver.

"Hang on," said Chrissie slowly. "This looks familiar - "

"Thank you!" said Mona, snatching the goblet out of Chrissie's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all - OUCH!"

I had pinned Mona against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding her throat with one hand, I pulled out my wand.

 _"Kiara!"_ said Sian warningly.

"You took that from Pumbaa's house," I said, almost nose-to-nose with Mona, and breathing in an unpleasant smell of tobacco and spirits. "That had the Warts family crest on it."

"I - no - what - ?" spluttered Mona, who was turning slowly purple.

"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?" I snarled.

"I - no - "

"Give it to me!"

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders behind me. "Kiara, let her go," said Sian, trying to pull me back, but I wasn't listening. "Kiara, this isn't going to solve anything. Now let her - "

There was a bang and I felt my hands fly off Mona's throat, as well as hearing a soft thud behind me; Sian had fallen over. Gasping and spluttering, Mona seized her fallen case, then - CRACK - she Disapparated.

As Chrissie bent to help Sian up, I spun around angrily, trying to determine where Mona had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING - "

"There's no point, Kiara."

Todd had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair sleek with sleet.

"Mona will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."

"She nicked Pumbaa's stuff! Nicked it!"

"Yes, but still," saud Todd, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information, "you should get out of the cold."

She watched us through the door of the Flying Owls. The moment I was inside, I burst out, _"She was nicking Pumbaa's stuff!"_

"I know that, Kiara, and I know you're upset, but will you please stop shouting, you're starting to make a scene," Sian hissed. "Go and sit down. I'll get us drinks."

I was still fuming when Sian returned to our table a few minutes later holding three bottles of Butterbeer.

"Can't the Order control Mona?" I demanded of Sian and Chrissie in a furious whisper. "Can't they at least stop her stealing everything that's not fixed down when she's at Headquarters?"

"Shh!" said Sian desperately, looking around to make sure nobody was listening; there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at me with great interest, and Samba was leaning against a pillar not far away. "Kiara, I'd be annoyed too, I know it's your things she's stealing - "

I gagged on my Butterbeer; I had momentarily forgotten that I owned Pumbaa's old house.

"Yeah, it's my stuff!" I said. "No wonder she wasn't pleased to see me! I'm going to write to my parents and tell them what's going on, as well as tell Crighton when I see her next, and hope that they'll do something about it."

"Good thinking," whispered Sian, clearly pleased that I was calming down. "Chrissie, what are you staring at?"

"Nothing," said Chrissie, hastily looking away from the bar, but I knew she was trying to catch the eye of the handsome landlord, Sir Smoothster, for whom she had long nursed a soft spot.

"I expect 'nothing''s in the back getting more Firewhisky," said Sian teasingly.

Chrissie ignored this jibe, sipping her drink in what she evidently considered to be a dignified silence. I was thinking about Pumbaa, and how he had hated those silver goblets anyway. Sian drummed her fingers on the table, eyeing her sister shrewdly, even as her lips twitched.

The moment I drained the last drops in my bottle she said, "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"

Chrissie and I nodded; it had not been a fun trip and the weather was getting worse the longer we stayed. Once again we drew our cloaks tightly around us, rearranged our scarves, pulled on our gloves, then followed Keith Ball and a friend out of the pub and back up the High Street. My thoughts then strayed to Chris as we trudged up the road to Dragon Mort through the frozen slush. We had not met up with him; undoubtedly, I thought, because he and Dena were cosily closeted in Mr Puddleston's teashop, the haunt of happy couples. Scowling, I bowed my head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.

It therefore came as a surprise to us when we heard a pair of heavy feet come up behind us. Turning around, we saw that it was Chris. Through my shock, I felt an equal measure of joy at just seeing him - I know I had seen him only a few short hours ago, but what made me happy most of all was that Dena was not with him.

"Hey, guys," he said, once he's finally caught up with Sian, Chrissie and I.

"Hey, Chris," said Sian, as surprised to see him as I was. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Dena?"

"Well, I was, but she had to meet up with some friends to do some dress shopping here, and they don't need me for that," Chris said, shrugging. There was something in the way he said this that made me think he was not being entirely truthful with us, but I ignored the feeling, happy he was with us - me - again.

It was a little while after this that I became aware that the voices of Keith Ball and his friend, which were being carried back to me on the wind, had become shriller and louder. I squinted at their indistinct figures. The two boys were having an argument about something Keith was holding in his hand.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leon!" I heard Keith say.

We rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast. As I brushed some wet hair out of my face, Leon made to grab hold of the package Keith was holding; Keith tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Keith rose into the air, not as Chrissie had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, his arms outstretched, as though he were about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerily ... his hair was whipped around him by the fierce wind, but his eyes were closed and his face was quite empty of expression. Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Leon and I had all halted in our tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, Keith let out a terrible scream. His eyes flew open but whatever he could see, or whatever he was feeling, was clearly causing him terrible anguish. He screamed and screamed; Leon rushed forwards and seized Keith's ankles, trying to tug him back to the ground. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I rushed forwards to help, but even as we grabbed Keith's legs, he fell on top of us; Chris, Chrissie and I managed to catch him but he was writhing so much we could hardly hold him. Instead we lowered him to the ground where he thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of us.

I looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay there!" I shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

I began to sprint towards the school; I had never seen anyone behave as Keith had just done and I could not think what had caused it; I hurtled round a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs.

"Mina!" I panted, disentangling myself from the hedgerow into what I had fallen.

"Kiara!" said Mina, who had sleet trapped in her eyebrows and hair, and was wearing her great, shaggy breaverskin coat. "Jus' bin visitin' Harlow, she's comin' on so well yeh wouldn' - "

"Mina, someone's hurt back there, or cursed, or something - "

"Wha'?" said Mina, bending lower to hear what I was saying over the raging wind.

"Someone's been cursed!" I bellowed.

"Cursed? Who's bin cursed - not Chris? Sian? Chrissie?"

"No, it's not them, it's Keith Ball - this way ..."

Together we ran back along the lane. It took us no time to find the little group of people around Keith, who was still writhing and screaming on the ground. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and Leon were all trying to quieten him.

"Get back!" shouted Mina. "Lemme see him!"

"Something's happened to him!" shouted Leon, panic evident in his voice. "I don't know what - "

Mina stared at Keith for a second, then, without a word, bent down, scooped him into her arms and ran off towards the castle with him. Within seconds, Keith's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Sian hurried over to Keith's shocked friend and put an arm around him. He jumped and looked at her.

"It's Leon, isn't it?"

The boy nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or - ?"

"It was when that package tore," Leon said shakily; pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Chrissie bent down, her hand outstretched, but I seized her arm and pulled her back.

 _"Don't touch it!"_

I crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," I said, staring at the thing. "It was on display in Borrin and Burka ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Keith must have touched it." I looked up at Leon, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Keith get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. He came back from the bathroom in the Flying Owls holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Dragon Mort and he had to deliver it. He looked all funny when he said it ... oh no, oh no, I bet he'd been Imperiused, and I didn't realise!"

Leon gulped quickly, shaking again. Sian patted his arm gently.

"He didn't say who'd given it to him, Leon?"

"No ... he wouldn't tell me ... and I said he was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but he just wouldn't listen and ... and then I tried to grab it from him and - and - " Leon shook his head, unwilling to go on.

"We'd better get up to school," said Sian, her arm still around Leon, "we'll be able to find out how he is. Come on ..."

I hesitated for a moment, then pulled my scarf from around my face and, ignoring Chris and Chrissie's gasps, I carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Matron," I said.

As we followed Sian and Leon up the road, I was thinking furiously. We had just entered the grounds when I spoke, unable to keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

"Malty knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borrin and Burka four years ago, I saw her having a good look at it while I was hiding from her, her mum and Keziah. This is what she was buying that day when we followed her! She remembered it and went back for it!"

"I - I dunno, Kiara," said Chrissie hesitantly. "Loads of people go to Borrin and Burka ... and didn't that boy say Keith got it in the boys' bathroom?"

"He said he came back from the bathroom with it, he didn't necessarily get it in the bathroom itself - "

"Darbus!" said Chris warningly.

I looked up. Sure enough, Professor Darbus was hurrying down the stone steps through the swirling sleet to meet us.

"Mina says you five saw what happened to Keith Ball - upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Pride-Lander?"

"It's the thing he touched," I said.

"Good Lord," said Professor Darbus, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from me. "No, no, Match, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Match came shuffling eagerly across the Entrance Hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Triphorm at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

Myself and the others followed Professor Darbus upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor Darbus closed the door and swept round her desk to face Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Leon and I.

"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while he attempted to control himself, Leon told Professor Darbus how Keith had gone into the bathroom in the Flying Owls and returned holding the unmarked package, how Keith had seemed a little odd and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leon shook his head, unable to continue.

"All right," said Professor Darbus, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leon, and get Matron to give you something for shock."

When he had left the room, Professor Darbus turned back to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I.

"What happened when Keith touched the necklace?"

"He rose up in the air," I said, before Chris, Sian or Chrissie could speak. "And began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Crighton, please?"

"The Headmistress is away until Monday, Pride-Lander," said Professor Darbus, looking surprised.

"Away?" I repeated angrily.

"Yes, Pride-Lander, away!" said Professor Darbus tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

For a split second, I hesitated. Professor Darbus did not invite confidences; Crighton, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a life and death matter, though, and no moment to worry about being laughed at.

"I think Dani Malty gave Keith that necklace, Professor."

Chris, Sian and Chrissie all reacted differently; Chris scratched the back of his neck nervously, Sian started wringing her hands while looking straight at Professor Darbus, and Chrissie looked at her feet, shuffling them nervously.

"That is a very serious accusation, Pride-Lander," said Professor Darbus, after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," I said, "but ..." and I told her about following Malty to Borrin and Burka and the conversation we had overheard between her and Borrin.

When I had finished speaking, Professor Darbus looked slightly confused.

"Malty took something to Borrin and Burka for repair?"

"No, Professor, she just wanted Borrin to tell her how to mend something, she didn't have it with her. But that's not the point, the thing is that she bought something at the same time and I think it was that necklace - "

"You saw Malty leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, she told Borrin to keep it in the shop for her - "

"But, Kiara," Sian interrupted, "Borrin asked her if she wanted to take it with her, and Malty said "no" - "

"Because she didn't want to touch it, obviously!" I said angrily.

"What she actually said was, "How would I look carrying that down the street?" " said Sian.

"Well, she would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Chrissie.

"Oh, Chrissie," said Sian despairingly, "it would all be wrapped up, so she wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever she reserved at Borrin and Burka was noisy or bulky; something she knew would draw attention to her if she carried it down the street - and - "

"Let's not forget here," said Chris quickly, "that I asked Borrin about the necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out what Malty had asked her to keep, I saw it there. And Borrin told me the price, she didn't say it was already sold or anything - "

"Well," I said, "you were being really obvious, she realised what you were up to in about five seconds, of course she wasn't going to tell you - anyway, Malty could've sent off for it since - "

"That's enough!" said Professor Darbus, as Sian opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Pride-Lander, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Miss Malty purely because she visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people - "

" - that's what I said - " muttered Chrissie.

" - and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year, I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge - "

" - but - "

" - and what is more," said Professor Darbus, with an air of awful finality, "Miss Malty was not in Dragsmeade today."

I gaped at her, deflating.

"How do you know, Professor?"

"Because she was doing detention with me. She has now failed to complete her homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Pride-Lander," she said as she marched past us, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now yo check on Keith Ball. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. We had no choice but to file past her without another word. I was angry with the other three for siding with Darbus; nevertheless, I felt compelled to join in once we started discussing what had happened.

"So, who do you reckon Keith was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Chrissie, as we climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows," said Sian. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

"It could have been meant for loads of people," I said. "Crighton - the Love Destroyers would love to get rid of her, she must be one of their top targets. Or Beadu - Crighton reckons Zira really wanted her and they can't be pleased that she's sided with Crighton. Or - "

"Or you," said Chris, looking troubled.

"Couldn't have been," I said, "or Keith would've just turned round in the lane and given it to me, wouldn't he? I was behind him all of the way out of the Flying Owls. It would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Dragon Mort, what with Match searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malty had told him to take it into the castle?"

"Kiara, Malty wasn't in Dragsmeade!" said Sian, actually stamping her foot in frustration.

"She must have used an accomplice, then," I said. "Crate or Gabber - or, come to think of it, another Love Destroyer, she'll have loads better cronies than Crate and Gabber now she's joined up - "

Chris, Sian and Chrissie exchanged looks that plainly said "there's no point arguing with her".

"Dilligrout," said Sian firmly, as we reached the Fat Lord.

The portrait swung open to admit us into the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Dragsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: clearly, the news of Keith's fate had not yet spread.

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Chrissie, casually turfing a first-year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire, so that she could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," said Sian, prodding Chrissie out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first-year again. "It wasn't very well-thought-out at all."

"But since when has Malty been one of the world's greatest thinkers?" I asked.

Neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie answered me.

 **AN: Sorry about the quotation marks. My laptop went funny - it's fine, but the only way to fix it would have been to turn it on and off again, which I could not be bothered to do. See you next week.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **The Secret Mystery**

 **KIARA**

 _Dear Daddy and Mum,_

 _I am well. I've just come back from Dragsmeade which was not a fun trip. Honestly, you should have seen the shops closed there. It would have been better if you two had come up, I'd have been made up to see you._

 _Anyway, I ran into Mona Fetch there, and get this, she was trying to sell Pumbaa's old stuff - that's right, the stuff that we now own - that she had nicked from Warts House. I'm afraid to say I lost my temper with her and kind of accosted her outside The Flying Owls, but she Disapparated before I could do any damage._

 _But that's not the most interesting thing that happened today. On the way back from Dragsmeade, Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I saw Keith Ball cursed by touching a cursed necklace. He rose up into the air screaming. It was an awful sight to see. I found Mina who took him up to the castle, and when we got there, Professor Darbus met us and we followed her to her office where she asked us to tell her what had happened, which we did. I then told her that I suspected that Dani Malty had something to do with it, which Professor Darbus brushed aside at once, saying that she was doing detention with her that day; but I know that Malty just had to be involved with this somehow. I don't know how, but my feelings are strong with this suspicion._

 _I've got to go now. I'll be in touch with you soon._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Kiara_

I sent this letter to my parents Saturday night, hoping that I'd get a reply from them soon. And now on with this chapter.

Keith was removed to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that he had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Leon and I seemed to know that Keith had not been the intended target.

"Oh, and Malty knows, of course," I said to Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever I mentioned my Malty-is-a-Love-Destroyer theory.

I had wondered whether Crighton would return from wherever she had been in time for Monday night's lesson, but having had no word to the contrary, Sian and I presented ourselves outside Crighton's office at eight o'clock, I knocked, and we were both told to enter. There sat Crighton, looking unusually tired; her hand was as black and burned as ever, but she smiled when Sian ran to her mother to embrace her, before we both sat down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You girls have had a busy time while I have been away," Crighton said. "I believe you witnessed Keith's accident."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, as Sian nodded her head solemnly. !How is he?"

"Still very unwell, although he is relatively lucky. He appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: there was a tiny hole in his glove. Had he put it on, had he even held it in his ungloved hand, he would have died, perhaps instantly. Lucky Professor Triphorm was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse - "

"Why here?" I asked quickly. "Why not Matron?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Philomena Naenia Warts, Pumbaa's great-great-grandmother, raised her head from her arms where she had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Dragon Mort was operated in my day."

"Yes, thank you, Philomena," said Crighton quellingly. "Professor Triphorm knows much more about the Dark Arts than Matron, Kiara. Anyway, the St Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports and I am hopeful that Keith will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, ma'am?" I asked, disregarding a strong feeling that I might be pushing my luck, a feeling apparently shared by Philomena Naenia, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," said Crighton. "However, I shall tell you both in due course."

"You will?" said Sian, sounding as startled as I looked.

"Yes, I expect so," said Crighton, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside her robes and uncorking it with a prod of her wand.

"Ma'am," I said tentatively, "I met Mona in Dragsmeade."

"Ah, yes, I am aware that Mona has been treating your inheritance with light-fingered contempt," said Crighton, frowning a little. "She has gone to ground since you accosted her outside the Flying Owls; I rather think she dreads facing me - as well as your parents, who contacted me earlier today to tell me that they confronted Mona themselves. However, rest assured that she will not be making away with any more of Pumbaa's old possessions."

"That mangy old half-breed had been stealing Warts heirlooms?" said Philomena Naenia, incensed; and she stalked out of her frame, undoubtedly to visit her portrait in Warts House.

"Professor," I said, after a short pause, "did Professor Darbus tell you what I told her after Keith got hurt? About Dani Malty?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Crighton.

"And do you - ?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Keith's accident," said Crighton. "But what concerns me now, Kiara, is our lesson."

I remember feeling slightly resentful at this: if our lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, I said no more about Dani Malty, but watched as Crighton poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve, and began swirling the stone basin once more between her long-fingered hands.

"You girls will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lady Zira's beginnings at the point where the beautiful Muggle, Dizra Maliay, had abandoned Malvolio Mackay with her baby, and returned to her family home in Port Harcourt. Malvolio was left alone with the baby, and they were stelloways in many carts and a ship, until they arrived in London, and Malvolio never knew that he was carrying the baby who would one day become Lady Zira."

"How do you know he was in London, Ma?" said Sian.

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Crighton, "who helped found the very shop not quite like the one where the necklace we have just been discussing came from."

She swilled the contents of the Pensieve as I had seen her swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man, revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of long hair, the fringe of which completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young wizard just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. He said he needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and very thin. He said the locket had once belonged to a very famous witch by the name of Snake-Eyes. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, "Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favourite teapot," but when I looked at it, it looked something like hers, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. He didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. One of the best deals we ever made!"

Crighton gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory whence he had come.

"He only gave him ten Galleons?" I said indignantly.

"Charactacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Crighton. "So we know that, near then end of his life, Malvolio was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell his one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marmarin's treasured family heirlooms."

"But he could do magic!" I said impatiently. "He could have got food and everything for himself by magic, couldn't he?"

"Ah," said Crighton, "perhaps he could. But it is my belief - I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right - that when his love abandoned him, Malvolio stopped using magic. I do not think he wanted to be a wizard any longer. Of course, it is also possible that his unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped him of his powers, that can happen. In any case, as you are both about to see, Malvolio refused to raised his wand even to save his own life."

"He wouldn't even stay alive for his own daughter?"

Crighton raised her eyebrows, as Sian looked at me strangely.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lady Zira?"

"No," I said quickly, "but he had a choice, didn't he, not like my father - "

"Your father had a choice, too," said Crighton gently. "Yes, Malvolio Mackay chose death in spite of a daughter who needed him, but do not udge him too harshly, Kiara. He was greatly weakened by long suffering and he never had your father's courage. And now, if you and Sian will stand ..."

"Where are we going?" Sian asked, as Crighton joined she and I at the front of the desk.

"This time," said Crighton, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, girls ..."

Sian and I bent over the Pensieve together; our faces broke the cold surfaces of the memory and then we were falling through darkness again ... seconds later our feet hit firm ground, we opened our eyes and found that we and Crighton were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

"There I am," said Crighton briskly, pointing ahead of us to a tall figure crossing the road in front a horse-drawn milk cart.

This young Susan Crighton's long hair was all caramel. Having reached our side of the street, she strode off across the pavement drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that she was wearing.

"Nice suit, Ma," Sian blurted out. She blushed and looked at her mother, who merely chuckled as we followed her younger self at a short distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. She mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs Doyle, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in Crighton's eccentric appearance. "Um ... just a mo' ... MRS DOYLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.

I heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Crighton.

"Come in, she's on 'er way."

Crighton stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Sian, the older Crighton and I followed. Before the front door had closed behind us, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying towards us. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked towards Crighton.

" ... and take the iodine upstairs to Martin, Bella Stubbins has been picking her scabs and Erica Walsh's oozing all over her sheets - chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular and then her eyes fell upon Crighton and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," said Crighton, holding out her hand.

Mrs Doyle simply gaped.

"My name is Susan Crighton. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs Doyle blinked. Apparently deciding that Crighton was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh, yes. Well - well, then, you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led Crighton into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Crighton to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing her nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Dizra Maliay and arrange for her future," said Crighton.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs Doyle.

"No, I am a teacher," said Crighton. "I have come to offer Dizra a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Dragon Mort," said Crighton.

"And how come you're interested in Dizra?"

"We believe she has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean she's won a scholarship? How can she have done? She's never been entered for one."

"Well, her name has been down for our school since birth - "

"Who registered her? Her parents?"

There was no doubt that Mrs Doyle was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Crighton thought so too, for I saw her slip her wand our of the pocket of her velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs Doyle's desktop.

"Here," said Crighton, waving her wand once as she passed her the piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs Doyle's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly in order," she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

"Er - may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.

"Thank you very much," said Crighton, beaming.

It soon became clear that Mrs Doyle was no novice when it came to gin-drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Crighton for the first time, and she didn't hesitate to press her advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Dizra Maliay's history? I think she was brought here to the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs Doyle, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. It was some time in February and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this boy, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps, carrying a bundle in his arms. Well, he was the first father we had bringing a baby to us, I'll tell you that. We took him in and laid him down. And he died an hour after that."

Mrs Doyle nodded passively and took another gulp of gin.

"Did he say anything before he died?" asked Crighton. "Anything about the girl's mother, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, he did," said Mrs Doyle, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story.

"I remember he said to me, "I hope she looks like her mama," and I won't lie, he was right to hope it, because he was no handsome lad - and then he told me she was to be named Dizra, for her mother, and to have her mother's surname, Maliay - yes, I know, funny names, aren't they? We wondered whether he came from a circus - and no middle names. None at all. He also told me that she was born on New Year's Day. And he kept the baby in his arms all the time, and wouldn't let anyone else hold her, until he died.

"Well, we named her just as he'd said, it seemed so important to the poor boy, but no Dizra nor any kind of Maliay ever came looking for her, nor any family at all, so she stayed in the orphanage and she's been here ever since."

Mrs Doyle helped herself, almost absent-mindedly, to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheek-bones. Then she said, "She's a funny girl."

"Yes," said Crighton. "I thought she might be."

"She was a funny baby, too. She hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when she got a little older, she was ... odd."

"Odd, in what way?" asked Crighton gently.

"Well, she - "

But Mrs Doyle pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Crighton over her gin glass.

"She's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Crighton.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Crighton.

"You'll be taking her away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Crighton gravely.

She squinted at her as though deciding whether or not to trust her. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush, "She scares the other children."

"You mean she is a bully?" asked Crighton.

"I think she must be," said Mrs Doyle, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch her at it. There have been incidents ... nasty things ..."

Crighton did not press her, though I could tell that she was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still.

"Bella Stubbins' rabbit ... well, Dizra _said_ she didn't do it and I don't see how she could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Crighton quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how she got up there to do it. All I know is that she and Bella had argued the day before. And then - " Mrs Doyle took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time, "on the summer outing - we taken them out, you know, once a year to the countryside or to the seaside - well, Archie Barnes and Amy Bradley were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Dizra Maliay. She swore they'd just gone exploring, but _something_ happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things ..."

She looked at Crighton again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady.

"I don't think people will be sorry to see the back of her."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping her permanently?" said Crighton. "She will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs Doyle with a slight hiccough. She got to her feet and I was impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see her?"

"Very much," said Crighton, rising too.

She led her out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, I saw, were all wearing the same kind of greyish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Here we are," said Mrs Doyle, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. she knocked twice and entered.

"Dizra? You've got a visitor. This is Miss Crighton. She's here to tell you - well, I'll let her do it."

Myself, Sian and the two Crightons entered the room and Mrs Doyle closed the door on us. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A girl was sitting on top of the grey blankets, her legs stretched out in front of her, holding a book.

There was no trace of the Mackays in Dizra Maliay's face. Malvolio had got his dying wish: she was her beautiful mother in miniature, tall for eleven-years-old, light-haired and pale. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Crighton's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

"How do you do, Dizra?" said Crighton, walking forwards and holding out her hand.

The girl hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Crighton drew up the hard wooden chair beside Maliay, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Crighton."

" "Professor"?" repeated Maliay She looked wary. "Is that like "doctor"? What are you here for? Did _she_ get you in to have a look at me?"

She was pointing at the door through which Mrs Doyle had just left.

"No, no," said Crighton, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Maliay. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

She spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though she had given it many times before. Her eyes had widened and she was glaring at Crighton, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Maliay stopped glaring, though she looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Crighton and I work at a school called Dragon Mort. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come."

Maliay's reaction to this was most surprising. She leapt from the bed and backed away, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? "Professor", yes, of course - well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Archie Barnes and Amy Bradley, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

"I am not from the asylum," said Crighton patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Dragon Mort. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you - "

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Maliay.

"Dragon Mort," Crighton went on, as though she had not heard Maliay's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities - "

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Dragon Mort is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Maliay had frozen, her face expressionless, but her eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Crighton's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" she repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Crighton.

"It's ... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Maliay. A flush of excitement was rising up her neck into her hollow cheeks; she looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Her legs were trembling. She stumbled forwards and sat down on the bed again, staring at her hands, her head bowed as though in prayer, as next to me I heard Sian gasp when Maliay said the word "hurt".

"I knew I was different," she whispered to her own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Crighton, who was no longer smiling, but watching Maliay intently. "You are a witch."

Maliay lifted her head. Her face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make her better-looking; on the contrary, her finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, her expression almost bestial.

"Are you a witch too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Maliay at once, in the same commanding tone she had used when she had said "tell the truth".

Crighton raised her eyebrows.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Dragon Mort - "

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as "Professor" or "ma'am"."

Maliay's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before she said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?"

I was sure that Crighton was going to refuse, that she would tell Maliay there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Dragon Mort, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles, and must therefore be cautious. To my great surprise, however, Crighton drew her wand from an inside pocket of her suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Maliay jumped to her feet. I could hardly blame her for howling in shock and rage; all her worldly possessions must have been in there; but even as Maliay rounded on Crighton the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Maliay stared from the wardrobe to Crighton, then, her expression greedy, she pointed at the wand.

"Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Crighton. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Maliay looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Crighton.

Maliay hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Crighton.

Maliay took down the quaking box. She looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Crighton.

Maliay threw Crighton a long, clear, calculating look.

"Yes, I suppose so, ma'am," she said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Crighton.

Maliay took off the lid and tipped the contents on to her bed without looking at them. I had expected something exciting to be in that box, but instead I saw a mess of small, everyday objects; a yo-yo, a silver thimble and a tarnished mouth-organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Crighton coldly, putting her wand back into her jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thievery is not tolerated at Dragon Mort."

Maliay did not look remotely abashed; she was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Crighton. At last she said in a colourless voice, "Yes, ma'am."

"At Dragon Mort," Crighton went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure - been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You will not be the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Dragon Mort can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic - yes, there is a Ministry - will punish law-breakers still more severely. All wizards must accept that, in our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, ma'am," said Maliay again.

It was impossible to tell what she was thinking; her face remained quite blank as she put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When she had finished she turned to Crighton and said boldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Crighton, drawing a leather money-pouch from her pocket. "There is a fund at Dragon Mort for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You may have to buy some of your school books and so on second-hand, but - "

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Maliay, who had taken the heavy money-bag without thanking Crighton, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Crighton. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything - "

"You're coming with me?" asked Maliay, looking up.

"Certainly, if you - "

"I don't need you," said Maliay. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley - ma'am?" she added, catching Crighton's eye.

I thought that Crighton would insist upon accompanying Maliay, but once again I was surprised. Crighton handed Maliay the envelope containing her list of equipment, and, after telling Maliay exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, she said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you - non-magic people, that is - will not. Ask for Tom the barman, and if he's not around, you can always ask for Dizra the barmaid - "

Maliay's eyes widened at this.

"There's someone else out there with the same name as me - ma'am?" Maliay demanded.

Crighton raised her eyebrows again.

"It is not uncommon for people to share the same name, Dizra. Do you not like your name?"

"No, of course not," Maliay muttered. "It's just that people don't have the name Dizra. I jus thought ..."

Maliay trailed off, clearly unimpressed by this information. Then, as though she could not suppress the question, as though it burst from her in spite of herself, she asked, "Was my mother a witch? She was called Dizra Maliay too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Crighton, her voice gentle.

"My father can't have been magic, or he wouldn't have died," said Maliay, more to herself than Crighton. "It must've been her. So - when I've got all my stuff - when do I come to this Dragon Mort?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Crighton. "You will leave from one of the submarines in the Sub House at the Dover docks on the first of September. There is a ticket in there, too."

Maliay nodded. Crighton got to her feet and held out her hand again. Taking it, Maliay said, "I can speak to reptiles too, but snakes in particular. I found out when we've been to the countryside on trips - they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a witch?"

I could tell that she had withheld mention of the strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"Talking to snakes is unusual, but not unheard of," said Crighton, after a moment's hesitation. "Talking to reptiles, on the other hand ... that's a very rare and peculiar gift to have indeed."

Her tone was casual but her eyes moved curiously over Maliay's face. They stood for a moment, woman and girl, staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Crighton was at the door.

"Goodbye, Dizra. I shall see you at Dragon Mort."

"I think that will do, girls," said the slightly silver-haired Crighton at my side, and seconds later she, Sian and I were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before we landed squarely in the present-day office.

"Sit down, girls," said Crighton, landing between Sian and I.

Sian and I obeyed, and I could tell that her mind, just like mine, was still full of what we had just seen.

"Did you know, Ma - then?" asked Sian.

"Did I know that I had just met the most Dark witch of all time?" said Crighton. "No, I had no idea that she was going to grow up to be what she is. However, I was certainly intrigued by her. I returned to Dragon Mort intending to keep an eye upon her, something I should have done in any case, given that she was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as hers.

"Her powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young witch and - most interestingly and ominously of all - she had already discovered that she had some measure of control over them, and began to use them consciously. And as you both saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: she was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl she lured into a cave were most suggestive ... _I can make them hurt if I want to_ ..."

"And she was a Parshydamouth," I interjected.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although, as we know, there are Parshydamouths among the great and good too. In fact, her ability to speak to reptiles did not make me nearly as uneasy as her obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy and determination.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Crighton, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before you and I part, Kiara, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"Firstly, I hope you girls noticed Maliay's reaction when I mentioned that another shared her first name, "Dizra"?"

Sian and I nodded.

"There she showed her contempt for anything that tied her to other people, anything that made her ordinary. Even then she wished to be different, separate, notorious. She shed her name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of "Lady Zira" behind which she has hidden for so long.

"I trust that you both also noticed that Dizra Maliay was already highly-sufficient, secretive and, apparently, friendless? She did nor want help or companionship on her trip to Diagon Alley. She preferred to operate alone. The adult Zira is the same. You will hear many of her Love Destroyers claiming that they are in her confidence, that they alone are close to her, even understand her. They are deluded. Lady Zira has never had a friend, nor do I believe that she has ever wanted one.

"And lastly - I hope you girls are not too sleepy to pay attention to this - the young Dizra Maliay liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles she had hidden in her room. These were taken from victims of her bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for you to go to bed, Kiara. Sian, would you mind staying behind, please?"

Sian nodded and remained seated as I got to my feet. As I walked across the room, my eyes fell upon the little table on which Marmarin Mackay's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Kiara?" said Crighton, for I had come to a halt.

"The ring's gone," I said, looking around. "But I thought you might have the mouth-organ or something."

Crighton merely beamed at me.

"Very astute, Kiara, but the mouth-organ was only ever a mouth-organ."

And on that enigmatic note she waved to me, and I understood myself to be dismissed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Felix Felicis**

 **KIARA**

I had Herbology first thing the following morning. Sian and I had been unable to tell Chris and Chrissie about our lesson with Crighton over breakfast for fear of being overheard, and also the fact that Chris was swept up with Dena, but we filled them in as the four of us walked across the vegetable patch towards the greenhouses. The weekend's brutal wind had died out at last; the weird mist had returned and it took a little longer than usual to find the correct greenhouse.

"Wow, scary thought, the girl She-You-Know," said Chrissie quietly, as we took our places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed that term's project, and we began pulling on our protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Ma's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Dunno," I said, inserting a gum shield. "But she says it's really important and it'll help me survive."

"I think it's fascinating," said Sian earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Zira as possible. How else will we find out her weaknesses? What do you think, Rickers?"

Chris thought hard for a moment, then said, "Well, I think it's kind of creepy, but if Ma thinks it's important, then who are we to question her judgement?"

"So how was Beadu's latest party?" I asked him thickly through the gum shield.

"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Chris, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, she drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and she absolutely _fawns_ on MacGuire because he's so well-connected, but she gave us some really nice food and she introduced us to Glen Johnson."

"Glen Johnson?" said Chrissie, her eyes widening. " _The_ Glen Johnson? Captain of Lancashire?"

"Yeah," said Chris. "Personally, I thought he was a bit full of himself, but - "

" _Quite_ enough talk over here, dudes!" said Spud briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everyone else has started and Nikita's already got her first pod!"

We looked around; sure enough, there sat Nikita with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of her face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.

"OK, Professor, we're starting now!" said Chrissie, adding quietly, when he had turned away again, "Should've used _Muffliato_ , Kiara."

"No, we shouldn't!" said Sian at once, looking as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Princess and her spells. "Well, come on ... we'd better get going ..."

She gave Chris, Chrissie and I an apprehensive look; we all took deep breaths and then dived at the gnarled stump between us.

It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramble-like vines flew out of the top and whipped through the air. One tangled itself in Sian's hair and Chrissie beat it back with a pair of secateurs; I succeeded in trapping a couple of vines and knotting them together; a hole opened in the middle of all the tentacle-like branches; Sian plunged her arm bravely into this hole, which closed like a trap around her elbow; Chris, Chrissie and I tugged and wrenched at the vines, forcing the hole to open again and Sian snatched her arm free, clutching in her fingers a pod just like Nikita's. At once, the prickly vines shot back inside and the gnarled stump sat there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood.

"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," said Chrissie, pushing her goggles up on to her forehead and wiping sweat from her face.

"Pass me a bowl," said Sian, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; I handed over one and she dropped the pod into it with a disgusted look on her face.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, dudes, they're best when fresh!" called Spud.

"Anyway," said Chris, continuing our interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked us, "Beadu's going to have a Christmas party, Kiara, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because she actually asked me to check your free evenings, so she could be sure to have it on a night you can come."

I groaned. Chrissie, meanwhile, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up and squashing it as hard as she could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Beadu's favourites, is it?"

"I'm afraid so, Chrissie," said Chris. "Just for the Spider Club."

The pod flew out from under Chrissie's fingers and hit the greenhouse glass, rebounding on to the back of Spud's head and knocking his hat off. I went to retrieve the pod; when I got back, Sian was watching Chris and Chrissie warily, for they were in the middle of an intense argument, and I heard Chris say, "Look, I didn't come up with the name "Spider Club" - "

 _" "Spider Club","_ repeated Chrissie with a sneer worthy of Malty. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you take Dena with you, then Beadu can make you King and Queen Spider - "

"We're allowed to bring guests - "

"We are?" Sian interrupted excitedly, perking up at this notion, but Chrissie's expression was far from happy at this news.

"Oh, fantastic! Just fantastic! As usual, I'm the one who's been left out! Why am I not surprised?" said Chrissie sarcastically, throwing her hands in the air.

Sian looked slightly hurt by her sister's attitude, as she said, "Actually, I was going to say that the next time I saw Beadu, I was going to ask her whether I could bring you ..."

I suddenly wished the pod had flown a little further, so that I need not have been sitting there with the three of them. Unnoticed by any, I seized the bowl that contained the pod and I began to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means I could think of; unfortunately, I could still hear every word of their conversation.

"You were going to ask me, Sian?" said Chrissie, in a completely different tone.

"Yes," said Sian, angry now. "But now that I know what you think, I'll write to Kopa and ask him to come instead!"

There was a pause, while I continued to pound the resilient pod with a trowel. The pause stretched on for longer than necessary, to the point where it was becoming uncomfortable to bear, until I missed the pod, hit the bowl and it shattered.

 _"Reparo!"_ I said hastily, poking the pieces with my wand, and the bowl sprang back together again. The crash, however, appeared to have awoken Chris, Sian and Chrissie to my presence. Sian looked flustered, and immediately started fussing about for her copy of _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_ to find out the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods; Chrissie, on the other hand, looked sheepish and kept her head down, as though ashamed of herself - and Chris, well, he just looked annoyed.

"Hand that over, Kiara," said Sian hurriedly, "it says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp ..."

I pushed her the pod in the bowl, and Chris, Chrissie and I snapped our goggles back over our eyes and dived, once more, for the stump.

I suppose I wasn't surprised - well ... Chris and Chrissie arguing, _that_ I was surprised about, for in all the years I had known them, they had never argued - for they were siblings, after all, and siblings fight all the time. I knew that Sian and Chrissie drove each other crazy every hour of the day that it had become a normal thing that I didn't notice any more. But for the three of them to fall out with each other, that was different. They couldn't split up - _we_ couldn't. It had always been the four of us, standing tall together ... but if our group fell apart because of Sian and Chrissie ... somehow, the thought filled me with dread.

"Gotcha!" yelled Chrissie, pulling a second pod from the stump just as Sian managed to burst the first one open, so that the bowl was full of tubers wriggling like pale green worms.

The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Beadu's party. Although I watched me three friends more closely over the next few days, Chris, Sian and Chrissie did not seem any different except that they were a little politer to each other than usual. I supposed that I would just have to wait to see what happened under the influence of Butterbeer in Beadu's dimly lit room on the night of the party. In the meantime, however, I had more pressing worries.

The a few days later at breakfast, I received a reply from my father.

 _My dearest Kiara,_

 _Your mother and I are well, but we were shocked to hear about Mona stealing Pumbaa's old things - well, ours now - your mother in particular; you know how much Pumbaa meant to her. You should have seen her, screaming and shouting all over the place. I had to work extra hard to convince her to settle down, for that amount of stress could not have been good for the baby, and after I told her that I would speak to Crighton about it, she listened to me._

 _Now, about your friend, Keith Ball. Your mother and I were shocked to read about what had happened to him in your last letter, sweetheart. We could hardly believe it. We're glad to hear that you're safe, of course, but of all the places for someone to get cursed, and the fact that it was somewhere close to Dragon Mort at school, it's unbelievable! It's fortunate that you got help when you did, Kiara. Please keep your mother and I updated on Keith's progress and whether he's all right._

 _Now, on to the Malty girl. I think you're looking too far into this, Kiara, as does your mother. If Professor Darbus says that the Malty girl was in detention with her, then who are you to argue with that? I know you think she was involved in this somehow, Kiara, but don't you think it could be possible that you want her to be involved because you hate her that much? No matter what you think, I want you to drop this obsession that I think you've started with this girl, thinking that she's involved in some evil stuff (even though that is kind of true, because of her family being Love Destroyers and all)._

 _Your mother and I will be in touch again soon._

 _All our love,_

 _Daddy and Mum_

I understood why my parents were worried about me, but I was so convinced that Malty had joined the Love Destroyers that I was going to blatantly ignore what my father had said in his letter. Now back to the story.

Keith Ball was still in St Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which meant that my promising Lion-Heart team I had been training so carefully since September was one Chaser short. I had kept putting off replacing Keith in the hope that he would return, but our opening match against Snake-Eyes was looming and I finally had to accept that he would not be back in time to play.

I did not think I could stand another full-house tryout with a sinking feeling that had little to do with Quidditch, I cornered Dena Wright after Transfiguration one day, who had Chris on her arm. Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow birds were still zooming around the room, all of Sian's creation; none of us apart from Sian, of course, had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.

"Are you still interested in playing Chaser, Dena?"

"Wha - ?" Yeah, of course!" said Dena excitedly. Over Dena's shoulder I saw Zara Finn slamming her books into her bag, looking sour. One of the reasons why I would have preferred not to ask Dena to play was that I knew Zara would not like it. On the other hand, I had to do what was best for the team, and Dena had out-flown Zara at the tryouts.

"Well then, you're in," I said. "There's a practice tonight, seven o'clock."

"Right," said Dena. "Cheers, Kiara! Blimey, I can't believe it!"

"Are you sure about this, Kiara?" said Chris, looking at me questioningly, while looking thrilled for Dena, which made my stomach drop.

"Er, yeah - yeah, absolutely. She was one of the best at the tryouts, and she'll be great on the team seeing as Keith's going to be out of action for a while," I said, smiling, whilst trying not to let Chris see that I was currently dying inside. He and Zara then left the room together, leaving Zara and I alone in a rather uncomfortable moment together, made no easier when a bird dropping landed on Zara's head as one of Sian's canaries whizzed over us.

Zara was not the only person disgruntled by the choice of Keith's substitute. There was much muttering in the common room about the fact that I had chosen three of my classmates for the team. As I had endured much worse mutterings than this in my school career, I was not particularly bothered, but all the same, the pressure was increasing to provide a win in the upcoming match against Snake-Eyes. If Lion-Heart won, I knew that the whole house would forget that they had criticised me and swear that they had always known it was a great team. If we lost ... well, I thought wryly, I had still endured worse mutterings ...

I had no reason to regret my choice once I saw Dena fly that evening; she worked well with Chris and Danny. The Beaters, Peet and Cartwright, were getting better all the time. The only problem was Chrissie.

I had known all along that Chrissie was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have brought out all her old insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Chris, her technique became wilder and wilder, until she finally punched an oncoming Danny Roberts in the mouth.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry, Danny, really sorry!" Chrissie shouted after him as he zigzagged back to the ground dripping blood everywhere. "I just - "

"Panicked," Chris said angrily, landing next to Danny and examining his fat lip. "You know, Chrissie, you can be a real moron sometimes! I mean, look at the state of him!"

"I can fix that," I said, landing beside the two boys, pointing my wand at Danny's mouth and saying, _"Episkey"_. "And Chris, don't call Chrissie a moron, you're not the captain of this team - "

"Well, you seemed too busy to call her a moron and I thought someone should - "

I bit back a laugh.

"In the air, everyone, let's go ..."

Overall it was one of the worst practices we had had all term, though I did not feel that honesty was the best policy when we were that close to the match.

"Good work, everyone, I think we'll flatten Snake-Eyes," I said bracingly, and the Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves.

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Chrissie in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Chris.

"No you didn't," I said firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Chrissie. Your only problem is nerves."

I kept up a countless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time we reached the second floor Chrissie was looking marginally more cheerful. When I pushed open the tapestry to take our usual shortcut up to Lion-Heart Tower, however, we found ourselves looking at Chris and Dena, who were locked in a close embrace and were kissing fiercely as if glued together.

When I saw them, I felt like I had no insides at all, for I felt like they had dropped right out of my body. But as soon as I felt them come back, if felt as though they had turned themselves into led, as the sudden desire to pull Dena from Chris and push her down the stairs overwhelmed me. Wrestling with this sudden madness, I heard Chrissie's voice as though from a great distance away.

"Oi!"

Chris and Dena broke apart and looked around.

"What?" said Chris.

"I don't want to find my own brother snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor 'til you came butting in!" said Chris.

Dena was looking embarrassed. She was giggling nervously as she shot me a shifty grin that I did not return, as the urge to resist pushing Dena down the stairs was becoming all the harder to resist all the times she stood there.

"Er ... c'mon, Chris," said Dena, "let's go back to the common room ..."

"You go!" said Chris. "I want a word with my dear sister!"

Dena left, looking as though she was not sorry to depart the scene.

"Right," said Chris, glaring at Chrissie, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Chrissie - "

"Yeah, it is!" said Chrissie, just as angrily. "D'you think that Sian or I or anyone else in our family want to hear people saying our brother's a - "

"A what?" shouted Chris, drawing his wand. "A _what_ , Chrissie?"

"She doesn't mean anything, Chris - " I said automatically, though privately agreeing with Chrissie.

"Oh yes she does!" he said, firing up at me. "Just because _she's_ never snogged anyone in her life, just because the best kiss _she's_ ever had is from our Uncle Paul - "

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Chrissie, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Chris, beside himself. "I've seen you with Ferdinand, hoping he'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see him, it's pathetic! If you went out a bit and get a bit of snogging done yourself you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Chrissie had pulled out her wand too; I stepped swiftly between them.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Chrissie roared, trying to get a clear shot of Chris around me, as I was standing protectively in front of him with my arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public - !"

Chris snorted derisively, trying to push me out of the way.

"Been kissing Piggledon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Uncle Paul under your pillow?"

"You - "

A streak of orange light flew under my left arm and missed Chris by inches; I pushed Chrissie up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid - "

"Kiara's snogged Khan Chan!" shouted Chris, beside himself. "And Sian's snogged Kopa, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Chrissie, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, he stormed away. I quickly let go of Chrissie; the look on her face was murderous. We both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs Robbs, Mr Match's cat, appeared round the corner, which broke the tension.

"C'mon," I said, as the sound of Match's shuffling feet reached our ears.

We hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oi, out of the way!" Chrissie barked at a small boy who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toad-spawn. I hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; I felt disorientated, dizzy; I thought that being struck by lightning must have felt something like this. _It's just because he's Chrissie's brother_ , I told myself. _You just didn't like seeing him kissing Dena because he's Chrissie's brother ..._

But unbidden into my mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with Chris kissing me instead ... his scent overwhelming me ... the image of his fingers caressing my face and back, and becoming entangled in my hair made my heart fly ... until I saw Chrissie ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing her wand on me, shouting things like "betrayal of trust" ... "supposed to be my friend" ...

I was brought out of my rather interesting thoughts by Chrissie, who said, "Dilligrout," darkly to the Fat Lord, and we climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

Neither of us mentioned Chris again; indeed, we barely spoke to each other for the rest of the evening and we got into bed in silence, both of us absorbed in our own thoughts.

I lay awake for a long time that night, looking up at the canopy if my four poster, trying to convince myself that my feelings for Chris were entirely sisterly. We had lived, had we not, like brother and sister all summer, playing Quidditch, teasing Chrissie and having a laugh about Sam and Ferdinand? I had known Chris for years ... he had always been part of our group ... so it was natural that I should feel protective ... natural that I should want to look out for him ... want to rip Dena limb from limb for kissing him ... no ... I would have to control that particular sisterly feeling ...

Chrissie moaned in her sleep.

 _He's Chrissie's brother_ , I told myself firmly. _Chrissie's brother. He's out of bounds._ I would not risk my friendship with Chrissie for anything. I punched my pillow into a more comfortable shape and waited for sleep to come, trying my utmost not to allow my thoughts to stray anywhere near Chris.

I awoke the next morning feeling slightly dazed and confused by a series of dreams in which Chrissie had chased me with a Beater's bat, but by midday I would have happily exchanged the dream Chrissie for the real one, who was not only cold-shouldering Chris (who remained by Dena's side all day) and Dena, but also treating a hurt and bewildered Sian with an icy, sneering indifference. What was more, Chrissie seemed to have become, overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Shudder-Ended Crab. I spent the day attempting to keep the peace between Sian and Chrissie with no success: finally, Sian departed for bed in high dudgeon and Chrissie stalked off not that long after Sian, and swearing angrily at several frightened first-years for looking at her as she went.

To my dismay, Chrissie's new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in her Keeper skills, which made her still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, she failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at her, but bellowed at everybody so much that Danny Roberts slapped her across the face.

Chrissie looked shocked for a second, but quickly became angry again.

"What did you do that for?" Chrissie yelled.

"You started it!" Danny yelled back. "Shouting at us all just because you have issues! Who do you think you are?"

"Danny's right, Chrissie, so why don't you shut up and leave us all alone?" shouted Peet, who was about two-thirds Chrissie's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat.

"ENOUGH!" I bellowed, for I had seen Chris glowering in Chrissie's direction and, remembering his reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, I soared over to intervene before things got out of hand. "Peet, go and pack up the Bludgers. Danny, I know you meant well, but please try to control yourself in the future. Chrissie ..." I waited until the rest of the team were out of earshot before saying it, "you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of the team like this and I'm going to have to kick you off the team."

I really thought for a moment that Chrissie was going might hit me, but then something much worse happened: Chrissie seemed to sag on her broom; all the fight went out of her and she said, "I resign. I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" I said fiercely, seizing Chrissie by the front of her robes. "You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got!"

"You calling me mental?"

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

We glared at each other for a moment, then Chrissie shook her head wearily.

"I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the team."

Nothing I said made any difference. I tried boosting Chrissie's confidence all through dinner, but Chrissie was too busy being grumpy and surly with Sian to notice. I persisted in the common room that evening, but my assertion that the whole team would be devastated if Chrissie left was somewhat undermined by the fact that the rest of the team was sitting in a huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering about Chrissie and casting her nasty looks. Finally, I tired getting angry again in the hope of provoking Chrissie into a defiant, and hopefully goal-saving, attitude, but this strategy did not appear to work any better than encouragement; Chrissie went to bed as dejected and hopeless as ever.

I lay awake for a very long time in the darkness that night. I did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only was it my first as Captain, but I was determined to beat Dani Malty at Quidditch even if I could not yet prove my suspicions about her. Yet if Chrissie had played as she had done in the last few practices, our chances of winning were very slim ...

If only there was something I could do to make Chrissie pull herself together ... make her play at the top of her form ... something that would ensure that Chrissie had a really good day ...

And the answer came to me in one, sudden, glorious stroke of inspiration.

Breakfast on the morning of the match was the usual excitable affair; the Snake-Eyes hissed and booed loudly as every member of my Lion-Heart team entered the Great Hall. I glanced at the ceiling and saw a clear, pale blue sky; a good omen.

The Lion-Heart table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Chrissie and I approached. I grinned and waved; Chrissie grimaced weakly and shook her head.

"Cheer up, Chrissie!" called Larry. "I know you'll be brilliant!"

"Larry's right, Chrissie! You'll be fine!" said Ben, sending an annoyed look at Larry, who kept his gaze focused on Chrissie.

Chrissie ignored them both.

"Tea?" I asked her. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"

"Anything," said Chrissie glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.

A few minutes later Sian, who had become so tired of her sister's recent unpleasant behaviour that she had not come down to breakfast with Chrissie and I, paused on her way up the table.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Chrissie's head.

"Fine," I said, concentrating on handing Chrissie a glass of pumpkin juice. "There you go, Chrissie. Drink up."

Chrissie had just raised her glass to her lips when Sian spoke sharply.

"Don't drink that, Chrissie!"

Chrissie and I looked up at her.

"Why not?" said Chrissie.

Sian was staring at me as though she could not believe her eyes.

"You just put something in that drink."

"Excuse me?" I said.

"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into my sister's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, stowing the little bottle hastily in my pocket.

"Chrissie, I warn you, don't drink it!" Sian said again, alarmed, but Chrissie picked up the glass, drained it in one and said, "Stop bossing me about, Sian."

She looked scandalised. Bending low so that only I could hear her she said, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never believed it of you, Kiara!"

"Hark who's talking," I whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?"

Sian stood up and looked at Chrissie, hurt. "You know what, Chrissie?" she said. "Over these past few days, I've seen you become this ... person, who's so different from the sister I know. You've lost yourself, Chrissie ... and I don't know who you are any more."

And with that, Sian stormed away from the table. Chrissie, I noticed, didn't seem fazed by her departure; but as I looked at the doors, I saw Sian standing there, looking at us (well, Chrissie really), and seeing Chrissie not looking at her hurt her more than she showed, I think, as she turned on her heel and left the Hall.

I was sad that Sian and Chrissie's sisterly relationship had broken, but all the same, Sian had never really understood what a serious business Quidditch was. I then looked round at Chrissie, who was smacking her lips.

"Nearly time," I said blithely.

The frosty grass crunched underfoot as we strode down to the stadium.

"Pretty lucky the weather's this good, eh?" I asked Chrissie.

"Yeah," said Chrissie, who was pale and sick-looking.

Chris and Danny were already wearing their Quidditch robes and were waiting in the changing room.

"Conditions look ideal," said Chris, ignoring Chrissie. "And guess what? That Snake-Eyes Chaser, Vela - she took a Bludger to the head yesterday during their practice, and she's too sore to play! And even better than that - Malty's gone off sick, too!"

 _"What?"_ I said, wheeling round to stare at him. "She's ill? What's wrong with her?"

"No idea, but it's great for us," said Chris brightly. "They're playing Hackett instead; she's a fifth-year, and from what Beth and Kestrel have told me about her, she's an idiot."

I smiled vaguely back, but as I put on my scarlet robes my mind was far from Quidditch. Malty had once before claimed she could not play due to injury, but on that occasion she had made sure the whole match was rescheduled for a time that suited the Snake-Eyes better. I wondered why she was now happy to let a substitute go on? Was she really ill, or was she faking it?

"Fishy, isn't it?" I said in an undertone to Chrissie. "Malty not playing?"

"Lucky, I call it," said Chrissie, looking slightly more animated. "And Vela off too, she's their best goal-scorer, I didn't fancy - hey!" she said suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on her Keeper's gloves and staring at me.

"What?"

"I ... you ... " Chrissie had dropped her voice; she looked both scared and excited. "My drink ... my pumpkin juice ... you didn't ... ?"

I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing except, "We'll be starting in about five minutes, you'd better get your boots on."

We walked out on to the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Badger-Stripes and Raven-Wings had taken sides, too; amidst all the yelling and clapping, I could distinctly hear the roar of Lincoln Lovedream's famous lion-topped hat.

I stepped up to Sir Turner, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.

"Captains, shake hands," he said, and I had my hand crushed by the new Snake-Eyes Captain, Wacello. "Mount your brooms. On my whistle ... three ... two ... one ... "

The whistle sounded, and myself and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and we were away.

I soared around the perimeter of the grounds looking for the Snitch and keeping one eye on Hackett, who was zigzagging far below me. Then a voice that was jarringly different from the usual commentator's started up.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Pride-Lander's put together this year. Many thought, given Christina Dawson's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that she might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help ..."

These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Snake-Eyes end of the pitch. I craned round on my broom to look towards the commentator's podium. A tall, skinny girl with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Leah Jones'' I recognised Zhi Smith, a Badger-Stripes player whom I heartily disliked.

"Oh, and here comes Snake-Eyes' first attempt at goal, it's Wacello streaking down the pitch and - "

My stomach turned over.

" - Dawson saves it, well, she's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose ... "

"That's right, Smith, she is," I muttered, grinning to myself, as I dived amongst the Chasers with my eyes searching all around for some hint of the elusive Snitch.

With half an hour of the game gone, Lion-Heart were leading sixty points to zero, Chrissie having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of her gloves, and Chris having scored four of Lion-Heart's six goals. This effectively stopped Zhi wondering loudly whether Chrissie and her adopted brother were only there because I liked them, and she started on Peet and Cartwright instead.

"Of course, Cartwright isn't really the usual build for a Beater," said Zhi loftily, "they've generally got a bit more muscle - "

"Hit a Bludger at her!" I called to Cartwright as I zoomed past, but Cartwright, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Hackett instead, who was just passing me in the opposite direction. I was pleased to hear the dull _thunk_ that meant the Bludger had found its mark.

It seemed as though Lion-Heart could do no wrong. Again and again we scored, and again and again at the other end of the pitch, Chrissie saved goals with apparent ease. She was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favourite _Dawson is our Queen_ , she pretended to conduct them from on high.

"Think she's something special today, doesn't she?" said a snide voice, and I was nearly knocked off my broom as Hackett collided with me hard an deliberately. "Your blood-traitor pal ..."

Sir Turner's back was turned, and though Lion-Hearts below shouted in anger, by the time he looked round Hackett had already sped off. My shoulder aching, I raced after her, determined to ram her back ...

"And I think Hackett of Snake-Eyes' seen the Snitch!" said Zhi Smith through her megaphone. "Yes, she's certainly seen something Pride-Lander hasn't!"

Smith really was an idiot, I thought, hadn't she noticed us collide? But next moment, my stomach seemed to drop out of the sky - Smith was right and I was wrong: Hackett had not sped upwards at random; she had spotted what I had not: the Snitch was speeding along high above us, glinting brightly against the clear blue sky.

I accelerated; the wind was whistling in my ears so that it drowned all the sound of Smith's commentary or the crowd, but Hackett was still ahead of me, and Lion-Heart was only a hundred points up; if Hackett got there first Lion-Heart had lost ... and now Hackett was only feet from it, her hand outstretched ...

"Oi, Hackett!" I yelled in desperation. "How much did Malty pay you to come instead of her?"

I did not know what made me say it, but Hackett did a double take; she fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through her fingers and shot right past it: I made a great swipe for the tiny fluttering ball and caught it.

"YES!" I yelled: wheeling round, I hurtled back towards the ground, the Snitch held high in my hand. As the crowd realised what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signalled the end of the game.

"Chris, where're you going?" I yelled, as I found myself trapped in the midst of a mass mid-air hug with the rest of the team, but Chris sped on right past us until, with an almighty crash, he collided with the commentator's podium. As the crowd shrieked and laughed, myself and the rest of the Lion-Heart team landed beside the wreckage of wood under which Zhi was feebly stirring; I then heard Chris saying blithely to Professor Darbus, "Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."

Laughing, I broke free from the rest of the team and hugged Chris, but I let go quickly. Avoiding his gaze as a blush started to creep up my cheeks, I hugged a cheering Chrissie instead as, all enmity forgotten, myself and the rest of the Lion-Heart team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to our supporters.

The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant.

"Party up in the common room, Zara said!" yelled Dena exuberantly. "C'mon, Chris, Danny!"

Chrissie and I were the last two in the changing room. We were just about to leave when Sian entered. She was twisting her Lion-Heart scarf in her hand and looked upset but determined.

"I want a word with you, Kiara." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Beadu, it's illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Chrissie.

"What are you two talking about?" I asked, turning away to hang up my robes so that neither of them would see me grinning.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" said Sian shrilly. "You spiked Chrissie's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," I said, turning back to face them both.

"Yes you did, Kiara, and that's why everything went right, there were Snake-Eyes players missing and Chrissie saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" I said, now grinning broadly. I slipped my hand inside my jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Sian had seen that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Chrissie to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." I looked at Chrissie. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

I pocketed the potion again.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Chrissie said, astounded. "But the weather's good ... and Vela couldn't play ... I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

I shook my head. Chrissie gaped at me for a moment, then rounded on Sian, imitating her voice.

" _You added Felix Felicis to Chrissie's juice this morning and that's why she saved everything!_ See! I can save everything without your help, Sian!"

"I never said you couldn't - Chrissie, _you_ thought you'd been given it, too!"

But Chrissie had already strode past her out of the door with her broomstick over her shoulder.

"Er," I said into the sudden silence; I had not expected my plan to backfire like this, "shall ... shall we go up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Sian, blinking back tears. "I'm _sick_ of Chrissie at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done ..."

And she stormed out of the changing room, too.

I walked slowly back up the grounds towards the castle through the crowd, many of them shouting congratulations at me as I passed, but I felt a great sense of let down; I had been sure that if Chrissie won the match, she and Sian would be friends again immediately. I did not see how I could explain to Sian that what she had done to Chrissie was that she had got a boyfriend before her sister, even though no one can force love to happen.

I could not see Sian at the Lion-Heart celebration party, which was in full swing when I arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted my appearance and I was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating me. What with trying to shake off the McCreevy sisters, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of boys that encircled me, getting a bit too close for comfort and some of them trying to touch me, it was some time before I could try and find Chrissie. At last, I extricated myself from Ronnie Vaughn, who was hinting heavily that he would like to go to Beadu's Christmas party with me. As I was ducking towards the drinks table I walked straight into Chris, Lucifer circling his heels.

"Looking for Chrissie?" he asked, smirking. "She's over there, the filthy hypocrite."

I looked into the corner he was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Chrissie wrapped so closely around Larry Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like she's eating his face, doesn't it?" said Chris dispassionately. "But I suppose she's got to refine her technique somehow. Good game, Kiara."

He patted me on the arm; I felt a tingle all the way down my arm, not to mention the unfamiliar sensation of butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but then he walked off to help himself to more Butterbeer, Lucifer right behind him, and the moment was broken.

I turned away from Chrissie, who did not look like surfacing soon, to see Sian glaring at Chrissie and shaking her head (there's a reason for this, which will be explained in the next chapter, and no, it's not for the reason you think), but then she whipped her head round as a black haired, yellow-skinned boy stormed across the room and left through the portrait hole. Sian remained where she was for a few moments before following him.

I darted forwards, sidestepped Ronnie Vaughn again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lord. The corridor outside seemed to be deserted.

"Sian? Ben?"

I found them in the first unlocked classroom I tried. They were sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling their heads, which Sian had already just conjured out of mid-air, and which Ben, despite his saddened look, was staring at quite wondrously. I also could not help admiring her spellwork at a time like this.

"Oh, hello, Kiara," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah ... they're - er - really good ..." I said.

I had no idea what to say to Ben. I knew that Sian had seen her sister, and was very much against the relationship she and Larry were currently in, but as for Ben, he and I had never really spoken, and just as I was wondering whether there was any chance he had not noticed Chrissie, that he had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, he said, in a gloomy voice, "Chrissie seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er ... does she?" I said.

Sian snorted. Ben said, "Don't pretend you didn't see her. She wasn't exactly hiding it, was - "

The door behind us burst open. To my horror, Chrissie came in, giggling, pulling Larry by the hand.

"Oh," she said, drawing up short at the sight of Sian, Ben and I.

"Oops!" said Larry, and he backed out of the room, chortling. The door swung shut behind him.

There was a horrible swelling, billowing silence. Ben glared down at his feet, whilst Sian glared at Chrissie, who refused to look at either of them, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Kiara! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Sian and Ben both slid off the desk at the same time. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around both their heads so that they looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Larry waiting outside," Sian said quietly. "He'll wonder where you've gone."

She put her arm back around Ben, and they walked together slowly and erectly. I glanced at Chrissie, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

 _"Oppugno!"_ came a shriek from the doorway.

I spun round to see Sian pointing her wand at Chrissie, her expression wild; the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Chrissie, who yelped and covered her face with her hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" she yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Sian wrenched open the door and disappeared through it, pulling Ben with her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **The Unbreakable Vow**

 **KIARA**

 _Dear Daddy and Mum,_

 _I'm glad Christmas is just around the corner. I can't wait to be with you and my grandmothers on Christmas Day, but more than that I really want to get out of the castle, for things are getting awkward where the Dawsons are concerned._

 _You see, it all began when we won the first Quidditch match of the season; Sian thought I had put something in Chrissie's drink, but I didn't; the only reason I wanted Sian and Chrissie to think I'd done it was not just because of the match, it was also to help Sian and Chrissie be on friendly terms again, which did not work. Now they're more angry than ever at each other, and they won't apologise to each other, either._

 _Anyway, at the common room, myself, Sian and everyone else there saw Chrissie kissing Larry Brown, but then I saw Sian leave just behind Ben, and when I found them they looked upset about Chrissie's choice in a guy. I think Ben's starting to like Chrissie, and I feel really sorry for him, but I just don't know what to say to him. Unfortunately, a few minutes after I had found them, Chrissie came barging in with Larry, and Sian sent a flock of canaries that she had created at her. So now things are more awkward than ever between Sian and Chrissie, and the rest of the Dawsons disapprove about Chrissie and Larry being together - at least I think so, seeing the way they look at them whenever they're together._

 _Anyway, I took your advice about Malty and I am not obsessing over her any more. That I promise you._

 _Looking forward to seeing you._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Kiara_

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Mina had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armour and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors. Boys tended to be waiting underneath the mistletoe bunches every time I went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; fortunately, however, my frequent night-time wanderings had given me an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that I was able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

Chrissie, who might have once found the necessity of these detours a cause for jealousy rather than hilarity, simply roared with laughter about it all. Although I much preferred this new laughing, joking Chrissie to the moody, aggressive model I had been enduring for the last few weeks, the improved Chrissie came at a heavy price. Firstly, I had to put up with the frequent presence of Larry Brown, who seemed to regard any moment that he was not kissing Chrissie as a moment wasted, and secondly, I found myself, once more, as the best friend of three people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other ever again.

Chrissie, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Sian's bird attack, was taking a defensive and resentful tone.

"She can't complain," she told me. "She's got Kop, now I'm with Larry. It's a free country, I can date whoever I like. I haven't done anything wrong."

I did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book we were supposed to have read before Charms the following morning ( _Quintessence: A Quest_ ). Determined as I was to remain friends with Chris, Sian and Chrissie, I was spending a lot of time with my mouth shut tight.

"I never promised Sian anything," Chrissie mumbled. "I mean, all right, I was going to go to Beadu's Christmas party with her, but she never said ... would've been nice ... she has Kopa ..."

I turned a page of _Quintessence_ , aware that Chrissie was watching me. Chrissie's voice tailed away in mutters, barely audible over the loud, crackling of the fire, though I thought I caught the words "boyfriend" and "can't complain" again.

I caught Chris in one of his Dena-free moments in the common room, ignoring how close we were, to ask him why he wasn't sitting with Chrissie any more.

"Look, I love my sister," he began. "Of course I do, she's my sister. And the reason I'm avoiding her has nothing to do with all the time I'm spending with Dena. It has to do with Larry."

"Larry?" I asked, confused. "What's Larry done?"

"It's not about what he's _done_ , Kiara," Chris explained. "It's how he acts around Chrissie that I don't like. I mean, half the time he's laughing at everything she says, and the other half he's trying to eat her face off - " I grimaced at that rather graphic comment " - and I'm not the only one who thinks that."

His eyes flickered to where the rest of the Dawsons were sat, and I looked over at where they were sat together around a table, doing their homework, but every now and again, one of them would glace over at the place where Chrissie and Larry were sat canoodling in front of the fire and would roll their eyes at the couple, or else would shake their heads in disgust.

Meanwhile, Sian's timetable was so full that I could only talk to her properly in the evening, when Chrissie was in any case so tightly wrapped around Larry that she did not notice what I was doing. Sian refused to sit in the common room while Chrissie was there, so I generally joined her in the library, which meant that our conversations were held in whispers.

"She's at perfect liberty to kiss whoever she likes," said Sian, while the librarian, Sir Pincer, prowled the shelves behind us. "I really couldn't care less."

She raised her quill and dotted an "i" so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment. I said nothing. I thought my voice might soon vanish from lack of use. I bent a little lower over _Advanced Potion-Making_ and continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the Princess' useful additions to Libatius Borage's text. When I paused once, I asked her, "But you believe Chrissie's made a mistake, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" she hissed quickly. "Of course she's made a mistake; I can see that, clear as daylight. Larry is not the right choice for her. I never thought I'd say this, but Chrissie can do better - _so_ much better than Larry."

"But if you feel this strongly about Chrissie with Larry, then why don't you break them up?" I said.

"Because, Kiara, I am not the type of sister who goes around breaking her siblings hearts. Besides, if I strode up to Chrissie and told her to break up with Larry, not only would she keep seeing him, but she would hate me for ever and never speak to me again, and I don't want that to happen." For a moment, a pained look shone in Sian's eyes, which she quickly recovered from, and continued, "No, I am going to let nature take its course with this one. Chrissie will soon realise that she made a mistake going out with him, but she'll be too much of a coward to end it, and in the end, I'll have to step in and be the one to break up with him for her!" Sian finished, smiling.

"You seem very confident about that," I told Sian.

"That's because I know Chrissie better than you do, Kiara," she said. When she next spoke, her tone was more serious. "Anyway, enough about Chrissie. You, Kiara, need to be careful."

"For the last time," I said, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Princess than Triphorm or Beadu have taught me in - "

"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Princess," said Sian, giving my book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her, "I'm talking about earlier. You see, Kiara, Chris told me earlier on today that he went into a boys' bathroom before Arithmancy, where he found at least a dozen boys in there, including Ronnie Vaughn, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you take them to Beadu's party and they all seem to have bought Tanya and Geri's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work - "

"Did Chris confiscate them, then?" I demanded.

"No. It wasn't that he didn't want to," Sian added quickly, seeing that I was about to interrupt her, "it was that the boys didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom. They were just discussing tactics, from what Chris told me. As I doubt whether the _Half-Blood Princess_ ," she gave the book another nasty look, "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you - that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," I mumbled, still trying not to think about Chris any more than I could help, despite the fact that he kept cropping up in my dreams in ways that made me devoutly thankful that Chrissie could not perform Legilimency.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because from what Chris told me, Ronnie Vaughn looked like he meant business," said Sian grimly.

She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Ancient Runes essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. I watched her with my mind a long way away.

"Hang on a moment," I said slowly. "I thought Match had banned anything bought at Fangs' Friendly Funnies?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Match has banned?" asked Sian, still concentrating on her essay.

"But I thought all the owls were being searched? So how come these boys are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Tanya and Geri send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," said Sian. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

"You know a lot about it."

Sian gave me the kind of nasty look she had just given my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed my siblings in the summer, they told me," she said coldly. "I don't go around putting potions in people's drinks ... or pretending to, either, which is just as bad ..."

"Yeah, well, never mind that," I said quickly. "The point is, Match is being fooled, isn't he? These boys are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malty have brought the necklace into the school - ?"

"Oh, Kiara ... not that again ..."

"Come on, why not?" I demanded.

"Look," sighed Sian, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register - and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous - "

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, thinking of Ronnie Vaughn.

" - so it would be down to Match to realise it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from - "

Sian stopped dead; I heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind us among the dark bookshelves. We waited and a moment later the vulture-like countenance of Sir Pincer appeared round the corner, his sunken cheeks, his skin like parchment and his long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp he was carrying.

"The library is now closed," he said. "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct - _what have you been doing to that book, you depraved girl?_ "

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" I said hastily, snatching my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ off the table as he lunged for it with a clawlike hand.

"Despoiled!" he hissed. "Desecrated! Befouled!"

"It's just a book that's been written in!" I said, tugging it out of his grip.

He looked as though he might have had a seizure; Sian, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed me by the arm and frogmarched me away.

"He'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?"

"It's not my fault he's barking mad, Sian. Or d'you think he overheard me being rude about Match? I've always thought there might be something going on between them ..."

"Oh, ha, ha ..."

Enjoying the fact that we could speak normally again, Sian and I made our way along the deserted, lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Match and Sir Pincer were secretly in love with each other.

"Baubles," I said to the Fat Lord, this being the new, festive password.

"Same to you," said the Fat Lord with a roguish grin, and he swung forwards to admit us.

"Hi, Kiara!" said Ronnie Vaughn, the moment I had climbed through the portrait hole. "Fancy a Gillywater?"

Sian gave me a "What-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder.

"No thanks," I said quickly. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Ronnie, thrusting a box into my hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got Firewhisky in them. My granddad sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh - right - thanks a lot," I said, not knowing of what else to say. "Er - I'm just going over here with ..."

I hurried off behind Sian, my voice tailing away feebly.

"Told you," said Sian succinctly. "Sooner you ask someone, sooner they'll leave you alone and you can - "

But her face suddenly darkened; she had just spotted Chrissie and Larry who were entwined in the same armchair.

"Well, goodnight, Kiara," said Sian, though it was only seven o'clock in the evening, and she went up the stairs to the dormitories without another word.

I went to bed comforting myself that there was only one more day of lessons to struggle through, plus Beadu's party, after which Chris, Sian, Chrissie, the rest of the Dawsons and I would depart for Dawson Manor. It now seemed impossible that Chris and Sian would make up with Chrissie before the holidays began, but perhaps, somehow, the break would give them time to calm down, think better of their behaviour ...

But my hopes were not high, and they sank still lower after enduring Transfiguration with Sian and Chrissie the next day (Chris was standing with Dena). We had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human Transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, we were supposed to be changing the colour of our own eyebrows. Sian laughed unkindly at Chrissie's disastrous first attempt, during which she somehow managed to give herself a spectacular mon-brow; Chrissie retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Sian jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor Darbus asked a question, which Larry and Perry both found deeply amusing and which reduced Sian to the verge of tears again. She raced out of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind; deciding that her need was greater than Chrissie's just then, I scooped up her remaining possessions and followed her.

I finally tracked her down as she emerged from a girls' bathroom on the floor below. She was accompanied by Kestrel, who was patting her vaguely on the back, and close behind them stood Lincoln Lovedream, who was looking on with interest.

"Oh, hello, Kiara," said Lincoln. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?"

"Hi, Lincoln. Hi, Kestrel. Sian, you left your stuff ..."

I held out her books.

"Oh, yes," said Sian in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hide the fact that she was wiping her eyes on her pencil case. "Thank you, Kiara. Well, I'd better get going ..."

And she hurried off, without giving me any time to offer her words of comfort or a hug.

"She's a bit upset," said Kestrel. "I thought at first it was Old Moany, which I know seems odd as he haunts a boys' bathroom, but it turned out to be Sian. She said something about Chrissie ..."

"Yeah, they've had a squabble," I said.

Kestrel sighed deeply and said, "She doesn't know when to give up sometimes, Chrissie does. She tries to be funny, but sometimes she takes things a little too far."

"I agree with you, Kestrel," said Lincoln, as the three of us set off down the corridor together. "She can be a bit unkind at times. I noticed that last year."

"I s'pose," I said. Lincoln was demonstrating his usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; I have never met anyone quite like him. "So have you had a good term?"

"Oh, it's been all right," said Lincoln. "A bit lonely without the C.A. Kestrel's been nice, though. She stopped two girls in our Transfiguration class calling me "Loony" the other day - "

"How would you like to come to Beadu's party with me tonight?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them; I heard myself say them as though it were a stranger speaking.

Lincoln turned his protuberant eyes upon me in surprise.

"Beadu's party? With you?"

"Yeah," I said. "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you might like ... I mean ..." I was keen to make my intentions perfectly clear. "I mean, just as friends, you know. But if you don't want to ..."

I was already half-hoping that he didn't want to.

"Oh, no, I'd love to go with you as friends!" said Lincoln, beaming as I had never seen him beam before. "Nobody's ever asked me to a party before, as a friend! Is that why you dyed your eyebrows, for the party? Should I do mine, too?"

"No," I said firmly, "that was a mistake, I'll get Sian to put it right for me. So, I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at eight o'clock tonight, then."

"AHA!" screamed a voice from overhead and the three of us jumped; unnoticed by any of us, we had just passed right underneath Weeves, who was hanging upside-down from a chandelier, grinning maliciously at us.

 _"Pridey asked Loony to go to the party! Pridey loves Loony! Pridey Luuuuurves LooooooonY!"_

And she zoomed away, cackling and shrieking, "Pridey loves Loony!"

"Nice to keep things private," I said. And sure enough, in no time at all the whole school seemed to know that I was taking Lincoln Lovedream to Beadu's party.

"You could've taken anyone!" said Chrissie in disbelief over dinner. " _Anyone!_ And you chose Loony Lovedream?"

"Don't you call him that, Chrissie," snapped Kestrel, pausing behind me on her way to join her friends. "I'm really glad you're taking him, Kiara, he's so excited."

And she moved on down the table, passing Chris who was sat with Dena. I tried to feel pleased that I was taking Lincoln to the party, but I could not quite manage it. A long way along the table, Sian was sitting alone, playing with her stew. I then noticed Chrissie looking at her furtively.

"You could say sorry," I suggested bluntly.

"What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?" muttered Chrissie.

"What did you have to imitate her for?"

"She laughed at my mono-brow!"

"So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

But Chrissie did not seem to have heard; Larry had just arrived with Perry. Squeezing himself in between Chrissie and I, Larry grabbed Chrissie's face and started kissing her enthusiastically.

"Hi, Kiara," said Perry, who, like me, looked faintly embarrassed and bored by the behaviour of our two friends.

"Hi," I said. "How're you? You're staying at Dragon Mort, then? I heard your parents wanted you to leave."

"I managed to talk them out of it for the time being," said Perry. "That Keith thing really freaked them out, but as there hasn't been anything since ... oh, hi, Sian!"

Perry grinned nervously. I could tell that he was feeling guilty for having laughed at Sian in Transfiguration. I looked around and saw that Sian was beaming at him. I think she was trying to hide her pain in front of Chrissie, but what do I know?

"Hi, Perry!" said Sian, ignoring Chrissie and Larry completely. "Are you going to Beadu's party tonight?"

"No invite," said Perry gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good ... you're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Kopa at eight and we're - "

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink and Chrissie surfaced. Sian acted as though she had not seen or heard anything, though I saw a flicker of disgust pass over her.

" - we're going up to the party together."

"Kopa ... as in, Kovu Outsider's brother? You two are still together?" said Perry.

"Oh - yes - didn't you know?" said Sian, with a most un-Sian-ish giggle. "I wrote to him a few weeks ago, asking him if he would like to be my date, and he agreed. I'm so happy he's coming tonight, for not only is he a good man, he's also a good brother, who treats his siblings with the _respect_ they deserve." She glared at Chrissie, before turning back to Perry. "Well, see you ... got to go and get ready for the party ..."

She shot another glare at Chrissie and left. Larry and Perry sat there, looking stunned at each other. Chrissie looked strangely blank and said nothing. I was left to ponder in silence at the depths to which sisters would sink to get revenge.

Sian had designed our dresses for the night. Mine was medium gold, which reached just below my knee and had a sweetheart neckline. The sleeves reached to my elbows and I wore flat black pumps. I decided to put my hair in a ponytail for the night and the only makeup I wore was lipstick, blusher and mascara (you'll find out what Sian was wearing shortly).

When I arrived in the Entrance Hall at eight o'clock that night, I found an unusually large number of boys lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at me resentfully as I approached Lincoln. He was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that was attracting a certain amount of giggling and strange looks from onlookers, but otherwise he looked quite nice. I was glad, in any case, that he had left off his radish earrings, his Butterbeer-cork necklace and his Spectrespecs.

"Hi," I said. "Shall we get going, then?"

"Oh, yes," he said happily. "Where is the party?"

"Beadu's office," I said, leading him up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. "Did you hear, there's supposed to be a vampire coming?"

"Rowena Scrimwazz?" asked Lincoln.

"I - what?" I said, disconcerted. "You mean the Minister for Magic?"

"Yes, she's a vampire," said Lincoln matter-of-factly. "Mammy wrote a very long article about it when Scrimwazz first took over from Cornelia Sweets, but she was forced not to publish it by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!"

I thought it most unlikely that Rowena Scrimwazz was a vampire, but I was used to Lincoln repeating his mother's bizarre views as though they were fact by this point, so I chose not to reply; we were already approaching Beadu's office and the sounds of laughter, music and loud conversation grew louder with every step we took.

Whether it had been built that way, or because she had used magical trickery to make it so, Beadu's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so that it looked like we were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

"Kiara, m'girl!" beamed Beadu, almost as soon as Lincoln and I had squeezed through the door. "Come in, come in, so many people I'd like you to meet!"

Beadu was wearing robes of deep purple that were embroidered with gold around the hem with a high black collar, which made her neck look longer, and thereby making her look more spiderlike than ever. Gripping my arm so tightly she might have been hoping to Disapparate with me, Beadu led me purposefully into the party; I seized Lincoln's hand and dragged him along with me.

"Kiara, I'd like you to meet Edith Ward, and old student of mine, author of _Blood Sisters: My Life Amongst the Vampiric Sisterhood_ \- and, of course, her friend Sabeen."

Ward, who was a small, bespectacled woman, grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sabeen, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under her eyes, merely nodded. She looked rather bored. As boys passed us, some caught Sabeen's eye and she eyed them with interest.

"Kiara Pride-Lander, I am simply delighted!" said Ward, peering short-sightedly up into my face. "I was saying to Professor Beadu only the other day, _Where is the biography of Kiara Pride-Lander for which we have all been waiting_?"

"Er," I said, "were you?"

"Just as modest as Arachne described!" said Ward. "But seriously - " her manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike, "I would be delighted to write it myself - people are craving to know more about you, dear girl, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you - ask Sabeen here if she isn't quite - _Sabeen, stay here_!" added Ward, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging towards a handsome boy, who stood there, transfixed, as Sabeen's had a hungry look in them. "Here, have a pasty," said Ward, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sabeen's hand before turning her attention back on me.

"My dear girl, the gold you could make, you have no idea - "

"I'm definitely not interested," I said firmly, "and I've just seen a friend of mine, sorry."

I pulled Lincoln after me into the crowd; I had indeed seen a girl with long brown hair on the arm of a tall man whose face was covered in cloths disappear between what looked like two members of The Jinxters.

"Sian! Kopa!"

They turned around when they heard me. Sian wore an ice blue dress with short straps and a square neckline, and the skirt came to just above her knees. She wore flat silver shoes, put on very little makeup and her hair was down. She and Kopa smiled at me as Lincoln and I approached; I could tell that Kopa was smiling because his familiar eyes sparkled like liquid amber.

"Kiara, there you are! I'm glad to see you here! Kopa and I were just talking about finding you!"

"Indeed we were!" said Kopa jovially, holding out a hand for me to shake. "It is good to see you again, Kiara."

"Yeah, you too," I said, taking his hand and shaking it. "So, how're things with you? How's Kovu?"

"I am well, thank you, as is my brother, who is enjoying being out of Uagadou because his mind is fully focused on Quidditch training for the South African Quidditch team. He is currently doing advertisements for certain things and he met someone - a girl who was at one of his photo shoots - who he is currently dating."

"Wow, good for him," I said. I then turned to Sian. "So Sian, have you told Kopa the reason why you invited him - the _real_ reason?"

Kopa looked at Sian, his gaze confused. "What does she mean by that, Sian? The _real_ reason?"

Sian sighed and said, "Look, I was going to invite Chrissie, but then she got all in my face about it, and then she started insulting me for no good reason, before she got herself a boyfriend, who is not good for her, and now it's uncomfortable for me to be around them, not just because whenever they're together they can't keep their hands off each other, but also because every time I see Chrissie now ... it hurts."

Sian looked straight at Kopa, her eyes begging him to forgive her, and all Kopa did was put his arms around her for a few minutes, before Lincoln said, "You make a great couple; your auras blend together well. The love that you have for each other is a very beautiful thing to see."

Sian lifted her head from Kopa's chest, looked at Lincoln, beamed and said, "Thank you, Lincoln." Then she said to all of us, "Shall we get drinks, then?"

Kopa, Lincoln and I nodded and the four of us made our way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realising too late that Professor Crystals was standing there alone.

"Hello," said Lincoln politely to Professor Crystals.

"Good evening, my dear," said Professor Crystals, focusing upon Lincoln with some difficulty. I could smell cooking sherry again. "I haven't seen you in my classes lately."

"No, I've got Fauna this year," said Lincoln.

"Oh, of course," said Professor Crystals with an angry, drunken chortle. "Or Froufrou as I prefer to think of her. You would have thought, would you not, that now I am returned to the school Professor Crighton might have got rid of the horse? But no ... we share classes ... it's an insult, frankly, an insult. Do you know ..."

Professor Crystals seemed too tipsy to have recognise me. Under cover of his furious criticism of Fauna, I drew closer to Sian and said, so low that Kopa couldn't hear her, "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Chrissie that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

Sian raised her eyebrows.

"Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"

I looked at her shrewdly.

"Sian, if you can ask out Kopa - "

"There's a difference," said Sian with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Chrissie anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

"Good," I said fervently. "Because she'll just fall apart again and we'll lose the next match - "

"Oh, for God's sake, Kiara, there are more important things than Quidditch to think about in this world, you know!" Sian burst out angrily. "Come on, Kopa!"

She grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, moving so fast it was as though they had Disapparated; one moment they were there, the next they had squeezed between two chortling wizards and vanished. I then turned quickly to join in Lincoln's conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom he was talking.

"Kiara Pride-Lander!" said Professor Crystals in deep, vibrant tones, noticing me for the first time.

"Oh, hello," I said unenthusiastically.

"My dear girl!" he said in a very carrying whisper. "The rumours! The stories! The Chosen One! Of course, I have known for a very long time ... the omens were never good, Kiara ... but why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!"

"Ah, Cyril, we all think our subject's the most important!" said a loud voice, and Beadu appeared at Professor Crystals' other side, her face rosy, her velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and a mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions!" said Beadu, regarding me with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know - like her father! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Cyril - why, even Tiana - "

And to my horror, Beadu threw out a long arm and seemed to scoop Triphorm out of thin air towards us.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Tiana!" hiccoughed Beadu happily. "I was just talking about Kiara's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught her for five years!"

Trapped, with Beadu's arm around her shoulders, Triphorm looked down her hooked nose at me, her icy-blue eyes narrowed.

"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Pride-Lander anything at all."

"Well, then, it's natural ability!" shouted Beadu. "You should have seen what she gave me, first lesson, the Draught of Living Death - never had a student produced finer on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Tiana - "

"Really?" said Triphorm quietly, her eyes still boring into mine, and I felt a certain disquiet; the last thing I wanted was for Triphorm to start investigating the source of my new-found brilliance at Potions.

"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Kiara?" asked Beadu.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology ..."

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror," said Triphorm, with the faintest sneer.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to be," I said defiantly.

"And a great one you'll make, too!" boomed Beadu.

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Kiara," said Lincoln unexpectedly. We all looked at him. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're working from within to bring down the Ministry of Magic using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."

I inhaled half my mead up my nose as I started to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Lincoln just for this. Emerging from my goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, I saw something calculated to raise my spirits even higher: Dani Malty being dragged by the ear towards us by Douglas Match.

"Professor Beadu," wheezed Match, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, "I discovered this girl lurking in an upstairs corridor. She claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue her an invitation?"

Malty pulled herself free of Match's grip, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" she said angrily. "I was trying to gate crash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Match, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmistress say that night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't she, eh?"

"That's all right, Douglas, that's all right," said Beadu, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Danielle."

Match's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why, I wondered, watching her, did Malty look almost unequally unhappy? And why was Triphorm looking at Malty as though both angry and ... was it possible? ... a little afraid?

But almost before I had registered what I had seen, Match had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malty had composed her face into a smile and was thanking Beadu for her generosity, and Triphorm's face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Beadu, waving away Malty's thanks. "I did know your grandmother, after all ..."

"She always spoke very highly of you, ma'am," said Malty quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker she'd ever known ..."

I stared at Malty. It was not the sucking up that intrigued me; I had watched Malty do that to Triphorm for a long time. It was the fact that Malty did, after all, look a little ill. This was the first time I had seen Malty close up for ages; I now saw that Malty had dark shadows under her eyes and a distinctly greyish tinge to her skin.

"I'd like a word with you, Dani," said Triphorm suddenly.

"Oh, now, Tiana," said Beadu, hiccoughing again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard - "

"I'm her Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," said Triphorm curtly. "Follow me, Dani."

They left, Triphorm leading the way, Malty looking resentful. I stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, "I'll be back in a bit, Lincoln - er - bathroom."

"All right," he said cheerfully, and I thought I heard him, as I hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor Crystals, who seemed sincerely interested.

It was easy, once out of the party, for me to pull my Invisibility Cloak out of my pocket and throw it over myself, for the corridor was quite deserted. What was more difficult was finding Triphorm and Malty. I ran down the corridor, the noise of my feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Beadu's office behind me. I thought of all the places Triphorm would take Malty in the castle: perhaps in her office ... or perhaps she was escorting her back to the Snake-Eyes common room ... but I pressed my ear against door after door as I dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement, I crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the corridor and heard voices.

" ... cannot afford to make mistakes, Dani, because if you are expelled - "

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" said Malty angrily. "For the last time, I didn't do it, OK? That Ball boy must have had an enemy no one knows about - don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work - I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Triphorm said quietly, "Ah ... Aunt Katalina has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your mistress, Dani?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from _her_ , I just don't want _you_ butting in!"

I pressed my ear still more closely against the keyhole ... what had happened to make Malty speak to Triphorm like this, Triphorm, towards whom she had always shown respect, even liking?

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realise that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Dani - "

"So put me in detention! Report me to Crighton!" sneered Malty.

There was another pause. Then Triphorm said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office, then!"

"Listen to me," said Triphorm, her voice so low now that I had to push my ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your father that I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Dani - "

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, she gave it to me and I'm doing it. I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

"What is your plan?"

"It's none of your business!"

"If you tell me what you're trying to do, I can assist you - "

"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering around the corridors without lookouts or backup. These are elementary mistakes - "

"I would've had Crate and Gabber with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"

"Keep your voice down!" spat Triphorm, for Malty's voice had risen excitedly. "If your friends Crate and Gabber intend to pass their Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres- "

"What does it matter?" said Malty. "Defence Against the Dark Arts - it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us needs protecting against the Dark Arts - "

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Dani!" said Triphorm. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you're placing your reliance on assistants like Crate and Gabber - "

"They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can - "

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

There was another pause, then Triphorm said coldly, "You are speaking like a child! I quite understand that your mother's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but - "

I had barely a second's warning: I heard Malty's footsteps on the other side of the door and I flung myself out of the way just as it burst open; Malty was striding along down the corridor, past the open door of Beadu's office, round the distant corner and out of sight. Hardly daring to breathe, I remained crouched down as Triphorm emerged slowly from the classroom. Her expression unfathomable, she returned to the party. I remained on the floor, hidden beneath the Cloak, my mind racing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **A Very Frosty Christmas**

 **KIARA**

"So Triphorm was offering to help her? She was definitely _offering to help her_?"

"If you ask that one more time," I said, "I'm going to stick this potato - "

"I'm only checking!" said Chrissie. We were standing alone at Dawson Manor's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of potatoes for Sian. Snow was drifting past the window in front of us.

 _"Yes, Triphorm was offering to help her!"_ I said. "She said she'd promised Malty's father to protect her, that she's made an Unbreakable Oath or something - "

"An Unbreakable Vow?" said Chrissie, looking stunned. "Nah, she can't have ... are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I said. "Why, what does it mean?"

"Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow ..."

"I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?"

"You die," said Chrissie simply. "Tanya and Geri tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did, too, I was holding hands with Tanya and everything when Sian found us. I don't think she understood what we were doing, but she must have thought that it was something dangerous, because she screamed for Dad. He went mental," said Chrissie, with a reminiscent gleam in her eye. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Ma or Sian. Anyway, he called up Aunt Pam and she took them home. We didn't see them for the rest of the summer. Tanya reckons her left buttock has never been the same since."

"Yeah, well, passing over Tanya's left buttock - "

"I beg your pardon?" said Tanya's voice as the twins entered the kitchen.

"Aaah, Geri, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them."

"I'll be seventeen in seven and a bit months' time," said Chrissie grumpily, "and then I'll be able to do it by magic!"

"But meanwhile," said Geri, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting her feet up on it, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a - whoops-a-daisy."

"You made me do that!" said Chrissie angrily, sucking her thumb. "You wait, when I'm seventeen - "

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills," yawned Tanya.

"And speaking of hitherto unsuspected magical skills, Christina," said Geri, "what is this we're hearing from Sian, Chris and our other cousins abut you and a young man called - unless our information is faulty - Larry Brown?"

Chrissie turned a little pink, but did not look disappointed as she turned back to the potatoes.

"Mind your own business."

"What a snappy retort," said Tanya. "I really don't know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was ... how did it happen?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Did he have an accident or something?"

"What?"

"Well, how did he sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!"

Sian entered the room just in time to see Chrissie throw the potato knife at Tanya, who turned it into a paper aeroplane with one lazy flick of her wand.

 _"Chrissie!"_ she said, a little too ferociously. "Don't ever let me see you throwing knives again!"

"I won't," said Chrissie, "let you see," she added under her breath, as she turned back to the potato mountain. Sian glared at her back for a few seconds before she turned back to Tanya and Geri, who looked as though they didn't know what to do with themselves.

OK, so, let me just back up a little here, so that you can understand. You see, once we had got off the subs at the Sub House, we saw my parents and Tanya and Geri were there to greet us, seeing as Mr Dawson had to work. I told them that tensions were running high between the Dawson siblings, because Chrissie was seeing someone - I didn't mention Larry's name, despite Tanya and Geri's pestering - and that none of the Dawsons liked them together, particularly Sian and Ben. I'm pretty sure my parents and Tanya and Geri didn't believe me, until, of course, we got to the Manor and had dinner that night. No one spoke much. Tanya and Geri tried making a few jokes, and my parents tried asking each of us questions about how school had gone so far, but after a while they stopped trying. Even Mr Dawson could see that something was going on.

During the hours when we didn't have to be in each other's company, no one, apart from myself, spent any time in Chrissie's company. They all spent time in their rooms or, in Sian and Chris' case, the smaller attic. As I said before, I decided to keep Chrissie company, not only because she was my best friend, but also because I didn't want her to be alone over Christmas. And now, back to the present.

"Tanya, Geri, I've left your room just as it was," Sian told them. "The only thing I've done is changed the sheets."

"Cheers, Sian," said Tanya.

"And Sam will be having the room next to yours, and Timon will be next to Simba and Nala's room, and once Joey's picked them up, Sarabi and Sarafina will have a room each on the same floor as Simba and Nala - along with Kopa. He was going to stay with his family in Africa, but seeing how well we got on at Beadu's Christmas party, he asked them if he could come here for Christmas instead. They agreed. I only know this because he wrote to me, so there," she added, before any of us could ask.

"Perdy definitely not showing her ugly face, then?" asked Tanya.

Sian's face darkened slightly before she answered.

"No, she's busy, I expect, at the Ministry."

"Or she's the world's biggest prat," said Tanya, as Sian left the kitchen. "One of the two. Well, let's get going, then, Geri."

"What are you two up to?" asked Chrissie. "Can't you help us with these potatoes? You could just use your wand and then we'll be free, too!"

"No, I don't think we can do that," said Tanya seriously. "It's very character-building stuff, learning to peel spuds without using magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs - "

" - and if you want people to help you, Chrissie," added Geri, throwing the paper aeroplane at her, "I wouldn't chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We're off to Southport, there's a very nice-looking lad working in a pub who thinks my card tricks are something marvellous ... almost like real magic ..."

"Cows," said Chrissie darkly, watching Tanya and Geri setting off across the snowy garden. "Would've only taken them ten seconds and then we could've gone, too."

"I couldn't," I said. "I promised your mother I wouldn't wander off while I'm staying here."

"Oh, yeah," said Chrissie. She peeled a few more potatoes and then said, "Are you going to tell Ma what you heard Triphorm and Malty saying to each other?"

"Yep," I said. "I'm going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it and Crighton's top of the list. I might have another word with your dad, too."

"Pity you didn't hear what Malty's actually doing, though."

"I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, she was refusing to tell Triphorm."

There was silence for a moment or two, then Chrissie said, "Course, you know what they'll all say? Ma and Dad and all of them? They'll say Triphorm isn't really trying to help Malty; she was just trying to find out what Malty's up to."

"They didn't hear her," I said flatly. "No one's that good an actor, not even Triphorm."

"Yeah ... I'm just saying, though," said Chrissie.

I turned to face her, frowning.

"You think I'm right, though?"

"Yeah, I do!" said Chrissie hastily. "Seriously, I do! But they're all convinced Triphorm's in the Order, aren't they?"

I said nothing. It had already occurred to me that this would be the most likely objection to my new evidence; I could hear Sian now:

 _"Obviously, Kiara, she was pretending to offer help so she could trick Malty into telling her what she's doing ..."_

And I could tell that Chris would say something along those lines, too. This was pure imagination, however, as I had had no opportunity to tell either Sian or Chris what I had heard. She was enveloped in Kopa's arms when I returned to Beadu's party, and when we left for the common room she was too tired and too happy to listen to what I had to say to her. Early the next morning, however, I cornered both her and Chris, telling them I had some important news for them when we got back from the holidays - for even though we were living in the same house, I highly doubted that we would get the chance to talk to each other much. I was not entirely sure that they had heard me, though; Chrissie and Larry had been saying a thoroughly non-verbal goodbye just behind me at the time.

Still, even Sian and Chris would not be able to deny one thing: Malty was definitely up to something, and Triphorm knew it, so I felt justified in saying "I told you so", which I had done several times to Chrissie already.

I did not get the chance to speak to Mr Dawson, who was working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night. The Dawsons, my parents, my grandmothers and their guests were sitting in the drawing room, which Sian, Beth, Kestrel and Merida had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Tanya, Geri, Chrissie and I were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a wild gnome that had bitten Tanya on the ankle as she and Geri had been wondering around the woods. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at us all; the ugliest angel I had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.

We were listening to a combination of Christmas Carols over the wireless, many of which Sian, with her angelic voice, chose to sing along to whenever she wasn't focusing on her artwork - much to the annoyance of Ferdinand who, every time he tried to interrupt, was shushed by Mr Dawson, who encouraged his daughter on. Tanya and Geri started a game of Exploding Snap with Ben and Dave. Chrissie kept shooting Sam and Ferdinand covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Chris was teaching Merida how to carve wood. Beth and Kestrel were playing chess and Joe and Jack were in their room, working on their inventory. My grandmothers were sat on a sofa together, chatting merrily, and my parents were sitting on another sofa, content with each other, my father rubbing my mother's growing belly. Meanwhile Timon Meers, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear the choral voices.

I was distracted by Mr Dawson, who I was sat next to, sat up straighter in his chair, and looked at me.

"Sorry about this," he said, jerking his head towards the Christmas broadcast. "Be over soon."

"No problem," I said, grinning. "Has it been busy at the Ministry?"

"Very," said Mr Dawson. "I wouldn't mind if we were getting anywhere, but of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them is a genuine Love Destroyer - only don't repeat that, Kiara," he added quickly, looking much more awake all of a sudden.

"So, basically, they're arresting anyone who's been saying things about the Love Destroyers' plans, so that they can increase public morale?" I said.

"I'm afraid so," said Mr Dawson. "I know Susan's tried appealing directly Scrimwazz about a few of them ... I mean, for all we know, they could be as much a Love Destroyer as a satsuma ... but the top levels want to look as though they're making some progress, and "three arrests" sounds better than "three mistaken arrests and releases" ... but again, this is all top secret ..."

"I won't say anything," I said. I hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to remark on what I wanted to say; as I marshalled my thoughts, another Carol began on the wireless.

"Mr Dawson," I began after a while, "you know what I told you at the Sub House before we set off for school?"

"I checked, Kiara," said Mr Dawson at once. "I went and searched the Maltys' house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn't have been there."

"Yeah, I know, I saw in the _Squabbler_ that you'd looked ... but this is something different ... well, something more ..."

And I told Mr Dawson everything I had overheard between Malty and Triphorm. As I spoke, I saw Meers' head turn a little towards me, taking in every word. My parents, who were also sitting close by, leaned forward (my mother with some difficulty) to listen better. When I had finished, there was silence, except for the carollers' singing.

"Has it occurred to you, Kiara," said Mr Dawson, "that Triphorm was simply pretending - "

"Pretending to offer help, so that she could find out what Malty's up to?" I said quickly. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do we know?"

"It isn't our business to know," said Meers unexpectedly. He had turned his back on the fire now, and faced me across Mr Dawson. "It's Crighton's business. Crighton trusts Tiana, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."

"But since when has Triphorm ever proved herself as truly trustworthy, Timon?" said Mum.

"Nala," said Meers, "we don't have to trust Tiana, we just have to trust - "

"But," I said, "just say - just say Crighton's wrong about Triphorm - "

"People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Crighton's judgement. I do; therefore, I trust Tiana."

"But Crighton can make mistakes," I argued. "She says it herself. And you - "

I looked Meers straight in the eye.

" - do you honestly like Triphorm?"

"I neither like nor dislike Tiana," said Meers. "No, Kiara, Nala, I am speaking the truth," he added, as Mum and I both pulled sceptical expressions. "We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps, after all that happened between Nala and Pumbaa and Tiana, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Dragon Mort, Tiana made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon."

"But she "accidentally" let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave!" I said angrily.

"Ha!" said Mum triumphantly. "See, Timon! How can you stick up for her, knowing that she had unleashed your secret to the school?"

Meers didn't answer. He just shrugged.

"The news would have leaked out anyway. We all know she wanted my job, but she could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the Potion. She kept me healthy. I must be grateful."

"Maybe she didn't dare mess with the Potion with Crighton watching her!" I said.

"You are determined to hate her, Kiara," said Meers with a faint smile. "And I understand; with Nala as your mother, you have inherited an old prejudice. By all means, tell Crighton what you have told Matt, Simba, Nala and me, but do not expect her to share you view of the matter; do not expect her to be surprised by what you tell her. It might have been on Crighton's orders that Tiana questioned Dani."

The choir finished together on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Sian joined in with enthusiastically.

"Eez it over?" said Ferdinand loudly. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible - "

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked Mr Dawson loudly, leaping to his feet. "Who wants egg-nog?"

As Mr Dawson bustled off to fetch the egg-nog and everybody else stretched and broke into conversation, Chris stood up and said, "Simba, could I have a word?"

I looked up at him at the same time as my father. He looked very nervous and was looking straight at me father, who stared at him shrewdly for a moment, then nodded. He rubbed my mother's stomach fondly one more time, kissed her on the cheek then got up, with Chris following him into the hallway.

I then turned to Meers and asked him, "What have you been up to lately?"

"Oh, I've been underground," said Meers. "Almost literally. That's why I haven't been able to write, Kiara; sending letters to you would have been something of a give-away."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been living along my fellows, my equals," said Meers. "Werewolves," he added, at my look of incomprehension. "Nearly all of them are on Zira's side. Crighton wanted a spy and here I was ... ready-made."

He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps me realised it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on, "I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing - and sometimes killing - to eat."

"How come they like Zira?"

"They think that, under her rule, they will have a better life," said Meers. "And it is hard to argue with Silverfur out there ..."

"Who's Silverfur?"

"You haven't heard of him?" Meers' hands closed convulsively in his lap. "Rasputin Silverfur is - "

"Disgusting, that's what he is!" said Mum darkly.

"Yes, thank you, Nala," said Meers. Turning back to me, he said, "Rasputin Silverfur, Kiara, is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Zira has promised him prey in return for his services. Silverfur specialises in children ... bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Zira has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results."

Meers paused and then said, "It was Silverfur who bit me."

"What?" I said, astonished. "When - when you were a kid, you mean?"

"Yes. My Uncle Max had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Silverfur is not like that. At the full moon he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Zira is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Silverfur's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."

"But you are normal!" I said fiercely. "You've just got a - a problem - "

Both Mum and Meers burst out laughing, Mum's cheeks turning pinker as she laughed.

"Oh ... my dear girl!" Mum said, when she had calmed down slightly. "You do remind me of myself sometimes, you really do!"

"How come?" I said. I had heard many people say that I was a lot like my mother, but that was the first time I had heard it directly from her - and I'm not going to lie, it felt good.

"Because I used to tell Timon that he had a "furry little problem" in company. Many people were under the impression he owned a badly behaved rabbit - remember, Moonshine?"

"Oh, boy, do I," said Meers, a reminiscent look on his face. "The amount of rabbit food I got before I went home for the holidays, I can tell you ..."

He accepted a glass of egg-nog from Mr Dawson with a word of thanks, looking slightly more cheerful. Meanwhile, I felt a rush of excitement: this last mention of my mother from the woman herself had reminded me that there was something I had been looking forward to asking both her and Meers.

"Have either of you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Princess?"

"The Half-Blood what?" said Meers, looking at Mum, who shook her head.

"Princess," I said, watching them both closely for a sign of recognition.

"There is no wizarding royalty, Kiara," said Mum, she and Meers determinedly not looking at each other. "Don't tell us this is a title you're thinking of adopting? I should have thought being the "Chosen One" would be enough."

"It's nothing to do with me!" I said indignantly. "The Half-Blood Princess is someone who used to go to Dragon Mort, I've got her old Potions book. She wrote spells all over it, spells she invented. One of them was _Levicorpus_ \- "

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during our time at Dragon Mort," said Meers reminiscently. "There were a few months in our fifth-year when you couldn't move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

"Mum, you used it," I told her. "I saw you use it on Triphorm in the Pensieve."

I tried to sound casual, as though this was a throwaway comment of no real importance, but I was not sure I had achieved the right effect; my mother's smile was a little too understanding.

"Yes," she said, "but just because I used it, Kiara, doesn't mean to say that I am the only one who did. As Timon said, it was very popular ... you know how these spells come and go ..."

"But it sounds like it was invented while you were at school," I persisted.

"Not necessarily," said Meers. "Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else." He looked at Mum, who nodded and leant towards me.

"Listen, Kiara," she said quietly, "I'm a Muggle-born and, pig-headed as I may have been, I did not once ask my friends to call me "Princess"."

Abandoning pretence, I turned to Meers and said, "And it wasn't Pumbaa? Or you?"

"Do we look like girls, Kiara?" Meers joked. He, Mum and I shared a laugh at that, before I turned serious again.

"I just thought - well, she's helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Princess has."

"How old is this book, Kiara?"

"I dunno, I've never looked."

"Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Princess was at Dragon Mort."

As Meers finished this sentence, my father and Chris came back into the room, Chris looking very happy about something, and my father looking just as happy; when Mum asked him what had happened to make them both so happy, he just gave her a secretive smile and said, "I'll tell you later," but every now and again I would catch him looking at me, still smiling that secretive smile. And shortly after this, Ferdinand decided to imitate the Carollers, but before he got to the end of the first line, Mr Dawson stood up and said loudly that it was time for all of us to go to bed, as Sian looked incredibly offended. The Dawson siblings and I bid goodnight to Mr Dawson and our guests on the floor below the guest bedrooms, before we all separated for our own rooms.

As soon as I had shut the door and turned on the lamp, I quickly changed into my nightgown, before I delved into my trunk and pulled out my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ before getting into bed. There I turned its pages, searching, until I finally found at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly sixty years old. Neither my mother, nor my mother's friends, had (obviously) been at Dragon Mort sixty years ago. Feeling disappointed, I threw the book back into my trunk, turned off the lamp and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and Triphorm, innocent people who had been captured by the Ministry and the Half-Blood Princess, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children ...

"He's got to be joking ... "

I woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of my bed. I sat up, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around; the window was almost completely obscured with snow and by the door stood Chrissie, who examined what appeared to be a thick gold chain.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's from Larry," said Chrissie, sounding revolted. He can't honestly think I'd wear ..."

I looked more closely and let out a snort of laughter. Dangling from the chain inside a golden heart were the words "My Sweetheart".

"Nice," I said. "Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Tanya and Geri."

"If you tell them," said Chrissie, shoving the necklace into a pocket of her dressing-gown, "I-I-I'll - "

"Stutter at me," I said, grinning. "Come on, would I?"

"How could he think I'd wear something like that, though?" Chrissie demanded of thin air, looking rather shocked.

"Well, think back," I said. "Have you ever let it slip that you'd like to go out in public with the words "My Sweetheart" round your neck?"

"Well ... we don't really talk much," said Chrissie. "It's mainly ..."

"Snogging," I said.

"Well, yeah," said Chrissie. She hesitated a moment, then said, "Can you believe Sian and Kopa have been together this long?"

"I know, I can't believe it either," I said. "They were having a great time together at Beadu's Christmas party, so their relationship looks like it's still going strong."

Looking slightly less cheerful, Chrissie slunk out of my room, closing the door behind her. I felt sad for her, but I pushed my sadness out of my mind as I turned to my presents, which included some makeup from my mother, a selection of The Sugarshacks' best sweets from my father and Grandmother Sarabi; Grandmother Sarafina had given me some Muggle money, that Grandmother Sarabi had exchanged for Galleons. Sian had hand-knitted me a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked on to the front, and a cushion with Dragon Mort Castle on it, with the same embroidery that she put on all the others, a large box of Fangs' Friendly Funnies products from the twins, a bottle of rose-scented perfume from Chrissie, a Firecracker charm carving from Chris and a slightly damp, mouldy-smelling package which came with a label reading: "To Young Mistress, from Kleaner".

"What's that you've got there, Kiara?" said Chrissie, who had come back in, looking happier than she had before.

"Something from Kleaner," I said, staring at it. "D'you reckon this is safe to open?" I asked.

"Can't be anything dangerous, all of our mail's still being searched at the Ministry," Chrissie replied, though she was eyeing the parcel suspiciously.

"I didn't think of giving Kleaner anything. Do people usually give their house-elves Christmas presents?" I asked, prodding the parcel cautiously.

"Sian would," said Chrissie. "But let's wait and see what it is before you start feeling guilty."

A moment later, I let out a loud shriek and leapt out of my bed; the package contained a large number of maggots.

I heard footsteps running towards my door. A second later, Chris had come barging in, closely followed by Sian. They both had their wands out.

"Are you OK, Kiara?" said Chris, coming straight over to me, as Sian peered cautiously around my room.

"I'm fine," I reassured him, touched that he was concerned for me. "I just received a rather unpleasant gift from Kleaner, that's all." I pointed to the maggots; Chris nodded and sighed with relief.

"It's all right, Sian," said Chris, turning to face her. "Kleaner just decided to send Kiara a package of maggots."

"Eww!" Sian said, shuddering, as she lowered her wand. "Well, at least you're all right, Kiara." She then smiled at me and, without acknowledging Chrissie's presence, she left. Chris turned back to me, staring at me intently with those forest-green eyes of his, and he touched my shoulder gently, sending pleasant tingles up and down my arm, before he, too, turned and left. Once the door had closed behind him, Chrissie burst out laughing.

"Nice," she said. "Very thoughtful."

"I'd rather have them than that necklace," I said, which sobered Chrissie up at once.

Everybody was wearing their new sweaters when we all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Ferdinand (on whom, it appeared, Sian had not wanted to waste one). As there were so many of us, we had to eat in the dining room on the second floor, as the kitchen table did not have enough room to seat us all.

"I know I said it yesterday morning, but it's so good to have you both here," I said to my grandmothers, once we were all seated.

"Well, you can thank Sian for that, seeing as she was the one who invited us," said Grandmother Sarabi, "and it gives Sarafina and I to spend time with our favourite granddaughter over Christmas. Besides, this is the first Christmas that both Sarafina and I have spent with you since you attended Dragon Mort."

"Well, I've always said, Sarabi, that Christmas is a time for family," said Sian, sitting next to her father. "Parsnips, Timon?"

"Kiara, you've got a maggot in your hair," said Chris cheerfully, leaning across the table to pick it out; I felt goosebumps erupt up my neck that had nothing to do with the maggot.

"'Ow 'orrible," said Ferdinand, with an affected little shudder.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Chrissie. "Gravy, Ferdinand?"

In her eagerness to help him, she knocked the gravy boat flying; Sam waved her wand and the gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly to the boat.

"You are as bad as zat Todd," said Ferdinand to Chrissie, when he had finished kissing Sam in thanks. "She is always knocking - "

"I invited _dear_ Todd to come along today," said Sian, shoving the carrots into Kopa's arms with unnecessary force and glaring at Ferdinand. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Timon?"

"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much," said Meers. "But Todd has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmm," said Sian. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

She gave Meers an annoyed look, as though it was all his fault she was getting Ferdinand for a cousin-in-law, but as I glanced at Ferdinand, who was now feeding Sam bits of Turkey off his own fork, I thought that Sian was fighting a long-lost battle. I was, however, reminded of a question I had with regard to Todd, and who better to ask than Meers, the man who knew all about Patronuses?

"Todd's Patronus has changed its form," I told him. "Triphorm said so, anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?"

Meers took his time chewing his turkey and swallowing before saying slowly, "Sometimes ... a great shock ... an emotional upheaval ..."

"It looked big, and it had four legs," I said, struck by a sudden thought and lowering my voice. "Hey ... it couldn't be - ?"

"Dad!" said Sian suddenly. She had risen from her chair and was looking out of the window that faced the front of the house. "Dad - it's Perdy!"

 _"What?"_

Mr Dawson stood up and went to the window, as did the rest of us. There, sure enough, was Perdy Fang, striding across the snowy driveway, her horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. She was not, however, alone.

"Merlin's beard!" said Mr Dawson. "She's with the Minister!"

And sure enough, the woman I had seen in the _Daily Squabbler_ was following along in Perdy's wake, limping slightly, her glossy mane of greying hair and her black cloak flecked with snow. As they disappeared from sight, Mr Dawson said to Joey, who was eating with us and his family, to show Perdy and Rowena Scrimwazz inside and to bring them to the dining room. Joey obeyed at once. When he was gone, the rest of us stood still, waiting, none of us saying a word, and yet I was sure they were all thinking the same thing as I was: what was the cause for this unexpected visit?

A few minutes later, we heard approaching footsteps. There were a couple of knocks on the door, which opened and Joey came in, standing back and keeping the door open to allow Perdy and Scrimwazz to enter.

None of us spoke. No one knew what to say. Perdy didn't know where to look. She tried looking at Sian, but she just glared at her, as did Mr Dawson, who put a supporting hand on his firstborn's shoulder.

Seeing as no one was going to speak, Rowena Scrimwazz coughed nervously and said, "I must apologise for this intrusion. Perdy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know - and she couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

But Perdy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the family, and judging from the looks on the Dawsons, Tanya and Geri's faces, none of them wanted her there, either. Deciding to break the silence, Sian looked at Scrimwazz and, doing her best to put on a polite smile and welcoming air, said, "Minister, why don't you come in and have something? Perhaps a little turkey or some pudding? Or maybe - "

"No, no, my dear Sian," said Scrimwazz. I guess that she had checked on her name with Perdy before they entered the house. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Perdy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly ..."

"Indeed?" Sian muttered, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Perdy, who kept her eyes focused on the floor. Scrimwazz went on as though Sian had not spoken.

" ... we've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the garden while you catch up with Perdy. No, no, I assure you, I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden ... ah, that young lady's finished, why doesn't she take a stroll with me?"

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from myself to Scrimwazz. Nobody seemed to find Scrimwazz's pretence that she didn't know my name convincing, or find it natural that I should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Chris, Geri and my father also had clean plates.

"Er, Minister - " my father began, but I cut him off.

"No, it's fine, Daddy," I said. "I'd be glad to show the Minister the garden."

I was not fooled; for all Scrimwazz's talk that they had just been in the area, that Perdy wanted to look up her family, I knew that this was the real reason as to why they had come, so that Scrimwazz could speak to me alone.

"It's fine," I said quietly to my parents, Grandmother Sarabi and Meers, who all looked like they wanted to say something. "Fine," I added, as Mr Dawson held out his free arm to stop me.

"Wonderful!" said Scrimwazz, standing back to let me pass through the door ahead of her. "We'll just take a turn around the garden and then Perdy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

I walked ahead of the Minister, down the stairs, along the corridor and out the front door into the Dawsons' large, neatly-trimmed, snow-covered garden, Scrimwazz limping slightly at my side. She had, I knew, been Junior Head of the Auror Office; she looked tough and battle-scarred, very different to portly Sweets.

"Charming," said Scimwazz, stopping just at the edge of the trees that led to the forest, and looking all around us at the beauty and peace of the garden - well, a part of it, anyway. "Charming."

I said nothing. I could tell that Scrimwazz was watching me.

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," said Scrimwazz, after a few moments. "Did you know that?"

"No," I said truthfully.

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Crighton has been very protective of you," said Scrimwazz. "Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through ... especially what happened at the Ministry ..."

She waited for me to say something, but I did not oblige, so she went on, "I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but Crighton has - most understandably, as I say - prevented this."

Still I said nothing, waiting.

"The rumours that have flown around!" said Scrimwazz. "Well, of course, we both know how these stories get distorted ... all these whispers of a prophecy ... of you being the "Chosen One" ..."

We were getting near it now, I thought, the reason Scrimwazz was here.

" ... I assume that Crighton has discussed these matters with you?"

I deliberated, wondering whether I ought to lie or not. I looked deep into the trees, imagining the place where Tanya and Geri had caught the wild gnome that was wearing the tutu on top of the Christmas tree. Finally, I decided on the truth ... or a bit of it.

"Yeah, we've discussed it."

"Have you, have you ..." said Scrimwazz. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Scrimwazz squinting at me, so I pretended to be very interested in a gnome that had just poked its head out from underneath an old oak. "And what has Crighton told you, Kiara?"

"Sorry, but that's between us," I said.

I kept my voice as pleasant as I could, and Scrimwazz's tone, too, was light and friendly as she said, "Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge ... no, no ... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are the Chosen One or not?"

I had to mull that one over for a few seconds before responding.

"I don't really know what you mean, Minister."

"Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously," said Scrimwazz with a laugh. "But to the wizarding community at large ... it's all perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that's important."

I said nothing. I thought I saw, dimly, where we were heading, but I was not going to help Scrimwazz get there. The gnome under the oak was now digging for worms at its roots and I kept my eyes fixed upon it.

"People believe you are the Chosen One, you see," said Scrimwazz. "They think you quite the hero - which, of course, you are, Kiara, chosen or not! How many times have you faced She Who Must Not Be Named now? Well, anyway," she pressed on, without waiting for a reply, "the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Kiara. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be _destined_ , to destroy She Who Must Not Be Named - well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realise this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

The gnome had just managed to get hold of a worm. It was now tugging very hard on it, trying to get it out of the frozen ground. I was silent for so long that Scrimwazz said, looking from myself to the gnome, "Funny little chaps, aren't they? But what say you, Kiara?"

"I don't exactly understand what you want," I said slowly. " "Stand alongside the Ministry" ... what does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing at all onerous, I assure you," said Scrimwazz. "If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impression. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Harry Potter who, as you know very well, is Head of the Auror Office. Democritus Umber has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily ..."

I felt anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach: so Democritus Umber was still at the Ministry, was he?

"So basically," I said, as though I just wanted to clarify a few points, "you'd like to give the impression that I'm working for the Ministry?"

"It would give everyone a lift to think that you were more involved, Kiara," said Scrimwazz, sounding relieved that I had cottoned on so quickly. "The "Chosen One", you know ... it's all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening ..."

"But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry," I said, still endeavouring to keep my voice friendly, "won't that seem as though I approve of what the Ministry's up to?"

"Well," said Scrimwazz, frowning slightly, "well, yes, that's partly why we'd like - "

"No, I don't think that'll work," I said pleasantly. "You see, I don't like some of the things the Ministry's doing. Locking up innocent people, for instance."

Scrimwazz did not speak for a moment, but her expression hardened instantly.

"I would not expect you to understand," she said, and she was not as successful at keeping the anger out of her voice as I had been. "These are dangerous times, and certain measures must be taken. You are sixteen years old - "

"Crighton's a lot older than sixteen, and she doesn't think that innocent people should be in Azkaban, either," I said. "You're making innocent lives scapegoats, just like you want to make me a mascot."

We looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimwazz said, with no pretence at warmth, "I see. You prefer - like your hero Crighton - to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?"

"I don't want to be used," I said.

"Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!"

"Yeah, and others might say it's your duty to check people really are Love Destroyers before you chuck them in prison," I said, my temper rising now. "You're doing what Bea Clutch did. You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Sweets, pretending everything's lovely while people get murdered right under her nose, or we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you've got the Chosen One working for you!"

"So you're not the Chosen One?" said Scrimwazz.

"I thought you said it didn't matter either way?" I said, with a bitter laugh. "Not to you anyway."

"I shouldn't have said that," said Scrimwazz quickly. "It was tactless - "

"No, it was honest," I said. "One of the only honest things you've said to me. You don't care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince everyone you're winning the war against Zira. I haven't forgotten, Minister ..."

I raised my right fist. There, shining white on the back of my cold hands, were the scars which Democritus Umber had forced me to carve into my own flesh: _I must not tell lies_.

"I don't remember you rushing to my defence when I was trying to tell everyone Zira was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals last year."

We stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath our feet. The gnome had finally managed to extract its worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against the trunk of the old oak.

"What is Crighton up to?" said Scrimwazz brusquely. "Where does she go, when she is absent from Dragon Mort?"

"No idea," I said.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew," said Scrimwazz, "would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," I said.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means."

"You can try," I said indifferently. "But you seem cleverer than Sweets, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from her mistakes. She tried interfering at Dragon Mort. You might have noticed she's not Minister any more, but Crighton's still Headmistress. I'd leave Crighton alone, if I were you."

There was a long pause.

"Well, it's clear to me that she has done a very good job with you," said Scrimwazz, her eyes cold and hard behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "Crighton's girl through and through, aren't you, Pride-Lander?"

"Yeah, I am," I said. "Glad we straightened that out."

And turning my back on the Minister for Magic, I strode back towards the house.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN 1: So, this is an important chapter in relation to Sian and Kiara's relationship. When thinking about writing this, I thought it would be longer, but this is how it turned out. See bottom for more notes. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 17**

 **A Talk Between Friends**

 **SIAN**

As soon as Kiara and Scrimwazz left the room, the uncomfortable silence that was already there turned as frosty and harsh as the cold, bitter snow that carpeted the grounds outside. As Perdy stared at the ground and Meers, Sarafina and Ferdinand stared between the glaring Dawsons, Simba, Nala, Sarabi, Tanya, Geri, Sam and Kopa and Perdy, Sian was wondering about her cousin's reappearance. She could have turned up at any time she pleased, Sian knew that, but why now? And why did she bring the Minister with her? There had to be a reason for this, that Sian knew; she also knew that she wasn't going to like the answer, but she had to know. So, keeping her breathing steady, Sian looked up at her cousin and began her questioning.

"Why are you here, Perdy?" she asked sharply.

Perdy looked up at Sian then, as did the rest of the Dawsons and their guests, but Sian had her eyes focused on her target.

"What do you mean, "why am I here"?" Perdy answered, slowly and carefully. "There's nothing wrong with me wanting to see my family, is there?"

"No, of course not," said Sian, smiling innocently. "I mean, yes, Christmas is a time for family ... but one doesn't normally invite the Minister for Magic round for Christmas dinner - whether or not the _Girl Who Lived_ is in their home ..."

Those words had an affect on everyone. The Dawson party had all widened their eyes as Sian's words registered in their minds, and Sian saw a flicker of fear in Perdy's eyes. Sian inwardly smiled at this; she knew that Perdy was breaking ... all she had to do was keep pushing.

" ... so there must be a reason," Sian continued, "as to why you and the Minister are here, Perdita. And it's not because you wanted to see us, no, no, no, that's just your motive - or rather, the _Minister's_ motive."

Once again, Sian could feel the silent gasps that stemmed from the people around her, and in that moment, she knew she had won. Perdy even confirmed her suspicions.

"And so what if the Minister needs her, Sian?" said Perdy, glaring at her cousin. "What does it matter - ?"

"It matters, Perdita," said Sian, "because the people you see all around you care a great deal about Kiara, and after all she and her family have suffered from you and your obnoxious Ministry chums last year, claiming to be a liar and a mad delinquent, as well as calling my mother - your aunt - a fool - well, I wouldn't be surprised if Kiara disagreed straightaway to the Minister's plan, whatever it may be."

Perdy stared hard at Sian, as she said, "The Ministry needs her, Sian - "

"Needs her?" said Sian, her patience gone and her temper rising. " _Needs_ her? Perdy, the only thing Kiara needs is a break from the Ministry, more than anything else. As I said before, Kiara and her family have suffered enough at the hands of the Ministry. She is not some possession to be used because she's this beacon of hope for everyone - she's a girl, who just wants to live as normal a life as possible, without having the Ministry and the press breathing down her throat every five minutes.

"And you know what the worst thing about all this is, Perdita?" said Sian, glaring at her cousin. "It's the fact that you are here, being the Minister's puppet because you were close to Kiara, which you had no right to do, Perdita. None whatsoever. You can't just come back here after about a year and a half, not only to use Kiara, but also to not apologise to us - your family - who you hurt and let down a great deal when you walked out that door; for my family opened our doors to you and your sisters when you had nowhere else to go, who took care of you when you were younger when your mother had to work, and who did everything within our power to keep you safe and happy. Because family is everything, Perdita. Without it, we are truly alone."

As Perdy opened her mouth to speak, a very angry-looking Kiara came bursting into the room.

 **KIARA**

I stormed back up to the house, the conversation I had with Scrimwazz swimming in my mind. I could not believe that after everything I had been through with the Ministry last year, that they wanted me to be their poster girl, to smile and say that they were doing a great job, when they were clearly nowhere near to winning this war than the rest of us were! How could they do that to me? What did they think, that after a year of refusing to believe me, of calling me a liar and Crighton an old fool, that I could just welcome them back with open arms and accept their proposal to help them out, despite the fact that we are on the same side? I don't think so!

As I approached the dining room, I heard Sian yelling at Perdy. As I neared the door, I could hear what Sian was saying more clearly to Perdy: about how unfair it was for the Ministry to use me in such a way, about how Perdy had hurt her family, and how she had let them all down. Sian's words touched me, not only because she was standing up for me, but also because I could hear in Sian's voice the pain that had been caused by Perdy leaving. But it was Sian's final words that really struck a cord with me.

"Because family is everything, Perdita. Without it, we are truly alone."

I let out a small gasp once Sian had said that, because I realised that she was right: family was indeed important, because it was everything, and hearing Sian say those words made me realise just how important family was to Sian. But it also made me realise something else, something that had always been there, but had just made itself clear in my mind, shattering through the walls at the back of my brain with such force that it hit me like an epiphany: Sian's family and mine were one, and I had every right to protect them, just as Sian had. I then felt angry at Perdy for choosing the stupid Ministry over her own family, and that gave me the courage to do what I did next. So, mustering up every ounce of courage I possessed, I held my head up high and marched back into the dining room, bursting through the doors.

The Dawsons, my parents, my grandmothers, Kopa, Meers, Joey and his family, Sam, Ferdinand, Tanya and Geri were all staring cautiously between Sian, who was glaring at Perdy, who was looking at Sian with a mingled expression of self-righteousness and fear. And seeing how self-righteous Perdy looked only made me angrier.

"How dare you, Perdy!" I yelled. Perdy turned to look at me, as did everyone else, but I kept my eyes fixed on Perdy's. "How dare you come over here, pretending you wanted to see your family, just so the Minister for Magic could persuade me to be their mascot?"

There was a collective gasp from the Dawson party at this, apart from Sian, who said sharply, "I knew it!" Perdy, however, kept her eyes on mine, eyes which had sharpened slightly.

"I'm only doing what's right by the Ministry, Kiara," she said, "and if you had any respect at all - "

"Respect? Ha! You're one to talk, Perdita!" said Sian angrily. "Putting your own ambition before your family again, I see. This is exactly what I was talking about before. You're pathetic, Perdita, and you have no right to be here right now. Besides, your job is done. Now, there's only one thing I want you to do now, Perdita ..." Sian then walked slowly and carefully towards Perdy, her eyes never lingering off her cousin's face, before she shrieked _"GET OUT!"_ so loudly that we all jumped back in shock, Perdy included, trying her best to avoid Sian's terrifying, livid stare.

After a few moments, Mr Dawson walked over to Sian and put a hand on her shoulder, looked at Perdy and said in a voice that was just as hard as his eyes, "You heard my daughter."

Perdy glanced around, but seeing the hardened glares from everyone around her, she turned on her heel and strode from the room. We waited a few moments and then, once we heard the distant sound of the front door slamming, we started moving again.

"Who wants pudding?" said Mr Dawson, as everyone moved back to the table - everyone except Sian who, unnoticed by anyone except myself, made for the door. I had lost my appetite by this point, and I knew that something was wrong with Sian, so I followed her, wanting to see what I could do to help.

I followed her out of the room, down the stairs, along a corridor, around a corner, up the spiral staircase and to the door that was by a set of three stairs, on top of which was a landing which split into two different directions, which led to (as I later found out) Crighton and Mr Dawson's studies, which both had staircases leading to the master bedroom above. I knew the door that Sian had just entered was Sian's room, the only room in Dawson Manor I had never entered, which was mainly because, as the Dawsons told me, no one entered Sian's room, no matter if she was in there or not.

This thought did make me feel nervous, but I knew that Sian needed a friend, so I pushed my nervous thoughts aside, strode to Sian's door and, after taking a deep breath, I knocked.

For a moment, there was silence. Then I heard a choked voice say, "Who is it?"

I let out a soft sigh of relief that Sian had not told me to go away, before I answered, "It's me. Can I come in?"

I received no answer, but the door did open to reveal Sian, her eyes overly bright and angry. After she looked past me to see whether anyone had followed, Sian looked at me, nodded, and moved to sit down on her bed as I entered the room, closing the door behind me.

I was immediately blinded by the aqua blue and dark purple colour spectrum of the room, but once I got past this and I began to see her room more, I was surprised by what I found in there. A CD player stood on a shelf near her bed, with three long columns of CDs stacked behind it by the wall. Posters of musical such as _Wicked_ , _Beauty and the Beast_ , _The Sound of Music_ and _Mamma Mia!_ to name a few were stuck on the walls, and there were also framed photographs of nature on there, too, from two deer on a rocky mountaintop overlooking the forest below, to a waterfall flowing into a distant stream. On one of her windowsills, Sian had a silver orchid stood beautifully in the weak winter sun. But what surprised me most about Sian's room was her desk, for covering almost every inch of it were pictures of her family.

They all seemed to show Sian and her brothers and sisters in their younger years, all smiling and happy, but two stood out above all the others: the first one was of all the Dawsons, including the youngest Dawson brother, Max, and their parents, all of them standing beside a riverbank on a beautiful summer's day, all of them wet and muddy, but unmistakeably happy. The second was just of Sian and her mother when Sian was very young, sitting on her mother's lap, and both mother and daughter were gazing at each other with happiness and love.

"That was taken when I was four years old," came Sian's voice. Four years old? Wow! It was very hard for me to imagine a four-year-old Sian Dawson. Something must have shown on my face as to what I was thinking, for Sian chuckled and said, "I know it's hard to believe, Kiara, but I was a child once, just like everyone else."

I looked at her then. She was smiling gently at me, but the smile did not reach her eyes, which were still overly-bright and angry. Something was troubling her, that much was clear, for why else would Sian have left the way she did? I was determined to find out what was wrong, but I was going to be gentle about it, so I started off by saying, "Are you OK?"

Sian heaved a heavy sigh and said, "No, I'm not." I waited for her to continue, and after about a minute she said, "I'm absolutely appalled at how Perdy has treated her family - our family. How she can just turn her backs on us like that, and act like we don't matter. I thought she was better than that. Clearly I was mistaken," she added bitterly, looking away from me.

"Why have Perdy's actions affected you so, Sian?" I asked her. When she looked up at me, her eyes questioning, I elaborated, "I mean, I get why you want Perdy to be there for her family because of the war, but there has to be more to it than that. You can confide in me, Sian. I won't tell a soul, I swear."

Sian studied me long and hard for a few moments, before she nodded and said, "You're right, there is a reason why Perdy's words affected me. Sit down," she nodded to the chair by her desk, "and I shall explain why."

I crossed to the chair by her desk, sat down and waited. I looked at Sian patiently, waiting for her to begin. When she looked at me, her eyes seemed to be burning with a fierce intensity that I had never seen there before. She then began to speak.

"You can ask anyone in my family, Kiara, of what my number one priority is, and all of them - my mother, my father, Chris, Chrissie, Tanya, Geri, all of them - and they will all tell you that my number one priority is my family."

I thought this was an odd way for the discussion to begin, but I did not interrupt, for I knew there was more to this than Sian was letting on. And she was right.

"My parents always told me," she said, "that your family is the most important thing in your life, and those who are in it you put before anything else, before yourself, before your job, before your very life, in fact. And that you'd do anything to protect them. Including giving your very life for them."

"You'd really give your life for your family?" I asked.

"In a heartbeat, if that was the case!" Sian said fiercely. "I'm well aware of the dangers of war, Kiara, and if it comes to it I will make that sacrifice even for Perdy, even though she's very anti-family at the moment, but that's entirely beside the point."

I looked at Sian, surprised. I had never heard her speak this fiercely about anything before, not when she had stood up to Triphorm in our third year, not even when she talked about starting our own Defence Against the Dark Arts group in our fifth year.

"You seem to have given this a fair deal of thought, Sian," I told her.

"Well, anyone would have, Kiara, if they had been through what I've been through!" she said.

Suddenly, she gasped, shocked, and lowered her head, afraid that she had said too much. I was shocked too, for I never thought she would say something like that. Sian had always been different to every other person I had known, but I couldn't help but wonder in that moment why that was. I didn't push her, though. I remained patient, knowing that she would tell me when she was ready. I didn't have to wait long.

She looked up at me after a few minutes, the expression on her face pained, as she began, "When I was a little girl, I was cursed by a witch - who or how or when or where doesn't matter - and ever since that day, my life changed for ever, for everything that I have done since that day has been to protect my family. Everything I've done, and everything that I will ever do has all been for them. And if anything ever happened to them ..." She couldn't continue as the pain on her face increased, and she covered her face in her hands, but I understood what she was trying to say.

"You don't know what you'd do if you lost them, do you?" I asked.

Sian raised her head again and shook it. "No, I don't. And if something did happen to any of them ... then I think that my parents would hate me."

I was shocked by Sian's words, for I did not believe them to be true. "How can you believe that to be true, Sian?"

"Because I've always been their protector, Kiara," Sian snapped. "I'm more of a mother to my siblings than our own mother is, which is not to say that my mother is not a good mother, because she is, but still. Anyhoo, you have no idea how much my parents rely on me, Kiara. It was always me who took care of them when we were younger, not my mother and father, for they were both working. It was worth it, thought," Sian added, as a smile traversed her lips, and a faraway look came over her, "for whenever my father came home, and he saw us all smiling and happy and _safe_ , he would turn to me and smile with pride in his eyes, as if to say, "good job"."

We fell silent again. I could tell that Sian was still holding some things back, but I would not push her, for I knew that she would explain herself when she was ready. But something struck me when she was talking ... something that made me remember something from a few years ago ...

"In our third year, when Meers set up that obstacle course for our Defence Against the Dark Arts exam when you said that you saw Professor Darbus fail you, that wasn't your true answer, was it?"

Sian looked up, surprised. "You knew that I was lying?"

She didn't say it in an accusatory tone, but I was still nervous about how she'd react. Eventually, though, I nodded, and Sian sighed and said, "You're right, I lied. I didn't see Professor Darbus telling me I'd failed everything (although that is a fear of mine) ... what I saw were my parents, my brothers, my sisters and you all dead before me ... and I ... I was all alone ... so alone ..."

And then Sian broke down completely; she put her head in her hands and wept. At last I knew what Sian's greatest fear was, and I did feel sorry for her. I wanted her to know that she wasn't alone, so I got up off the chair, sat next to her on the bed and held her as she cried.

Once she had calmed down, she said, "Thank you, Kiara. I'm glad to have someone I can talk to about this."

"No problem," I said. "And for what it's worth, no matter if you were around if something were to happen with someone in your family or not, I know for a fact that your parents will not blame you."

"How can you be so sure?" Sian asked, her expression sceptical.

"Because if they love you like you say they do - like I _know_ they do - then they will appreciate all that you've done for them and will still love you, no matter what."

"Thanks, Kiara." Sian then frowned, looked at me and said, "When did you suddenly get so wise?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I think you may have been a bad influence on me."

Sian started laughing, a good, honest laugh that made me laugh with her, and I was happy that I made Sian laugh, never mind smile. Then there came a knock at the door that made us jump, for both Sian and I had forgotten about everyone else in the house, but we were both quick to recover.

"Come in," Sian said.

The door opened to reveal Mr Dawson and Kopa, both of whom were carrying trays that had two plates of chocolate log on, accompanied by two little jugs of custard and two goblets of pumpkin juice each. Sian and I looked at the two men in the doorway in surprise.

"Dad? Kopa? What are you two doing here?"

"Well," said Mr Dawson, "we all noticed that you two had left the table, and we were all worried about you, so we decided to come and give you girls some dessert." Mr Dawson and Kopa placed the trays on the space on Sian's desk, before Mr Dawson turned to Sian, looked at her properly and said, "Are you all right, love? I know that was tough for you back there."

Sian nodded and said, "It was tough, Dad, but Kiara's been a big help. We've talked and I feel much better." We smiled at each other, and then turned to face Mr Dawson, who looked surprised, then smiled, his eyes sparkling.

"Well, I'm glad you're all right, Sian," Mr Dawson said, coming over, holding his firstborn tightly and kissing her on top of the head. When he let go of her, he looked at me, and flashed me a look filled with gratitude and understanding before he left. Kopa then hugged Sian, and when he let go of her he looked at me, his eyes smiling, before he too left, closing the door behind him with a soft snap.

Sian then looked at me and said, "Well, I think we'd best eat, don't you?"

I nodded, and as Sian went to get my dessert tray first, I revelled in how far Sian and I had come since our first meeting, for in that moment I felt a shift in our friendship, and I felt that we had grown closer as friends that night, and I was only too grateful that she had decided not to yell at me or slam a door in my face, as I knew, that five years ago, she would have done.

 **AN 2: This has got to be one of the chapters I enjoyed writing the most. I knew this chapter had to happen now. The reason I wrote this was for two reasons: not only do we get to see Sian as a person with feelings more than before, but we also get to hear a bit more about the mysterious history in her past, which is important for the next book. I also wanted to have a nice friendship building chapter between Kiara and Sian, and I thought that this was the perfect place to do so. Also, the reason I made Sian be more of a person - more human - than a robot (admit it, you've thought it), is because of what happens to her at the end of this book, which will carry on to the next book. I hope you've all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I have writing it. See you next Wednesday.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **A Slow Spider Memory**

 **KIARA**

Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year, Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Dragon Mort. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school. Only my parents were there to say goodbye, as my grandmothers had left after New Year's Day, and Mr Dawson, Tanya, Geri, Sam and Ferdinand were all at work. Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave had all gone through, and Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were saying goodbye to my parents.

"You all have a good term," said Mum, as she hugged Chris.

"We will," said Sian.

My father nodded at her, then looked at me and held out his arms, which I immediately ran into.

"Promise me you'll look after yourself and that you'll stay out of trouble, won't you?" he muttered into my hair.

"I always do, Daddy," I said. "I like a quiet life, you know me."

He let go of me and looked at me firmly. "I'm serious, Kiara! I want you to - "

"I know, Daddy, I know!" I defended. "I was just joking! Don't worry, I promise I'll stay out of trouble, even thought trouble somehow always seems to find me. We'll be fine, don't worry."

"Yeah, and even if we do get in trouble, at least we'll have Sian with us to keep us safe!" said Chrissie. Sian just rolled her eyes.

"Be good, then, all of you ..."

I stepped into the emerald fire and shouted, "Dragon Mort!" I had one last fleeting view of the Dawsons' kitchen and my parents happy but anxious faces before the flames engulfed me; spinning very fast, I caught blurred glimpses of other wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before I could get a proper look; then I was slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor Darbus' office. She barely glanced up from her work as I clambered out over the grate.

"Evening, Pride-Lander. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"No, Professor."

I flattened my hair as Chris came spinning into view, soon followed by Sian. When Chrissie had arrived, the four of us trooped out of Darbus' office and off towards Lion-Heart Tower. I glanced out of the corridor windows as we passed; the sun was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deep snow. In the distance, I could see Mina feeding Noelani in front of her cabin.

"Baubles!" said Chrissie confidently, when we reached the Fat Lord, ho was looking rather paler than usual, and winced at her loud voice.

"No," he said.

"What d'you mean, "no"?"

"There is a new password," he said. "And please don't shout."

"But we've been away, how're we supposed to - ?"

"Sian! Chris! Kiara!"

Merida was hurrying towards us, Dave just behind her, a rolled-up scroll held tightly in her hand.

"I've got something for you, Kiara," said Merry, neither looking at Chrissie nor giving any sign that she had noticed her sister. "Oh, hang on - password. _Abstinence._ "

"Precisely," said the Fat Lord in a feeble voice, and swung forwards to reveal the portrait hole.

"What's up with him?" I asked.

"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," said Merida, rolling her eyes as she and Dave led the way into the packed common room. "He and his friend Victor drank through all the wine in that portrait of the drunk monks by the Charms corridor. Anyway ..."

She handed me the scroll of parchment and I saw that it had Crighton's writing on it.

"Great," I said, unrolling it at once to discover that mine and Sian's next lesson with Crighton was scheduled for the following night. "I've got loads to tell her - as well as you two, Chris and Sian. Let's sit - "

But at that moment Larry came rushing forward, wrapped his arms around her, said, "Welcome back, Chrissie-Wissy!", before he locked his lips on to hers. Several onlookers sniggered; Chris, Sian, Merida and Dave all rolled their eyes, before Merida dragged Dave off to a corner in the common room. Sian then said, "There's a table over there ... want to join us before you go say hello to Dena, Chris?"

"Sure. I'm sure Dena won't mind if I spend some time with you before I greet her," said Chris, though I could not help noticing that he did not sound very enthusiastic about the prospect of seeing Dena later. Leaving Chrissie and Larry in a kind of vertical wrestling match, I led Chris and Sian over to the spare table.

"So, Kiara," said Sian, once the three of us had sat down, "what was this important news you wanted to tell us?"

She and Chris were both staring at me earnestly, so I recounted all that I had overheard between Malty and Triphorm to them.

When I had finished, Sian sat in thought for a moment and then said, "Don't you think - ?"

" - she was pretending to offer help so she could trick Malty into telling her what she's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Sian.

"Your dad and Meers think so," I said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malty's planning something, you two can't deny that."

"No, we can't," said Chris slowly.

"And she's acting on Zira's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm ... did either of them actually mention Zira's name?" said Sian.

I frowned, trying to remember.

"I'm not sure ... Triphorm definitely said "your mistress", and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Sian, biting her lip. "Maybe her mother?"

"But Sian," said Chris suddenly, "how many kids do you know who refer to their mother as their mistress?"

Sian didn't answer. She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even noticing Larry tickling Chrissie. "How is Meers, by the way? Chris and I never really got the chance to speak with him over the holidays."

"Not great," I said, and I told her and Chris all about Meers' mission among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. "Have either of you heard of this Rasputin Silverfur?"

"Yes, we have!" said Sian, sounding startled. "And so have you, Kiara!"

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened ..."

"No, no, not History of Magic - Malty threatened Borrin with him!" said Chris. "Back in Dark Avenue, don't you remember? She told Borrin that Rasputin was an old family friend an that he'd be checking up on Borrin's progress!"

I gaped at him. "I forgot! But this _proves_ Malty's a Love Destroyer, how else could she be in contact with Rasputin and telling him what to do?"

"It is pretty suspicious," breathed Sian. "Unless ..."

"Oh, come on," I said in exasperation, "you can't get round this one!"

"Well ... there is the possibility it was an empty threat."

"You're unbelievable, you two are," I said, shaking my head. "We'll see who's right ... Chris, Sian, you'll be eating your words, just like the Ministry."

"Speaking of the Ministry," said Chris, "what did the Minister ask you about when you spoke with her? You mentioned that the Ministry wanted to use you, but you didn't say anything else after that."

"Oh, I didn't, did I? Well, when Scrimwazz and I got outside ..."

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with the three of us abusing the Minister for Magic, for Chris and Sian, like Chrissie, thought that after all the Ministry had put me through in my fifth year, they had a great nerve asking me for help now. This continued until Dena stormed over to where Chris, Sian and I were sat and dragged him away. I felt jealousy's sting again as I watched them, wishing that I could be in Dena's shoes, grabbing one of Chris' long, soft, gentle hands, leading him to a corner and - but I quickly rid my head of these dangerous thoughts, not liking where they were going.

Anyhoo, the new term started the next morning with a pleasant surprise for we sixth-years; a large sign had been pinned to the common room noticeboards overnight.

 _APPARITION LESSONS_

 _If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before 31st of August, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition Instructor._

 _Please sign below if you would like to participate._

 _Cost: 12 Galleons._

Chrissie and I joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice and we took it in turns to write our names underneath. Chrissie was just taking out her quill to sign after Sian when Larry crept up behind her, slipped his hands over her eyes and trilled, "Guess who, Chrissie-Wissy?" I turned to see Sian stalking off; I caught up with her, having no wish to stay behind with Chrissie and Larry, but to my surprise, Chrissie caught up with us only a little way beyond the portrait hole, her cheeks red and her expression disgruntled. Without a word, Sian sped up to walk with Chris, Dena and Zara.

"So - Apparition," said Chrissie, her tone making it perfectly plain that I was not to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh, eh?"

"I dunno," I said. "Maybe its better when you do it yourself, I didn't enjoy it much when Crighton took me along for the ride."

"I forgot you'd already done it ... I'd better pass my test first time," said Chrissie, looking anxious. "Tanya and Geri did."

"Kat failed, though, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but Kat's bigger than me," Chrissie held her arms out from her body, as though she were a gorilla, "so Tanya and Geri didn't go on about it much ... not to her face, anyway ..."

"When can we take the actual test?"

"Soon as we're seventeen. That's July for us two!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle ..."

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I _could_ Apparate if I wanted."

Chrissie was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"How cool will it be when we can just - " Zara clicked her fingers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Angus does it just to annoy me, you wait 'til I can do it back ... he'll never have another peaceful moment ..."

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, she flicked her wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object of that day's Charms lesson, she let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Winds flat on her face.

"Kiara's already Apparated," Chrissie told a slightly abashed Zara, after Professor Winds had dried herself off with a wave of her wand and set Zara lines ( _"I'm a witch, not a baboon brandishing a stick"_ ). "My mo - er - someone took her. Side-Along Apparition, you know."

"Whoa!" whispered Zara, and she, Dena and Nikita put their heads together a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, I was besieged with requests from the other sixth-years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather that putt off, when I told them how uncomfortable it was, and I was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when I was forced to lie and say that I needed to return a book to the library, so as to escape in time for my lesson with Crighton, with Sian right behind me.

The lamps in Crighton's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses were snoring gently in their frames and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Crighton's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burned-looking as ever. It did not seem to have healed at all and I wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but I did not ask; Crighton had said that I would know eventually and there was, in any case, another subject I wanted to discuss. But before I could say anything about Triphorm and Malty, Crighton spoke - once she had let go of Sian, anyway.

"I hear that you met the Minister for Magic over Christmas, Kiara?"

"Yes," she said. "She's not very happy with me."

"No," said Crighton. "She is not very happy with me, either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Kiara, but battle on."

Sian and I grinned.

"She wanted me to tell the wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job."

Crighton smiled.

"It was Sweets' idea originally, you know. During her last days in office, when she was trying desperately to cling to her post, she sought a meeting with you, hoping you would give her your support - "

"After everything Sweets did last year?" I said angrily, as Sian shook her head in disgust. "After _Umber_?"

"I told Cornelia that there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when she left office. Within hours of Scrimwazz's appointment we met and she demanded that I arrange a meeting with you - "

"So that's why you argued!" I blurted out. "It was in the _Daily Squabbler_."

"The _Squabbler_ is bound to tell the truth occasionally," said Crighton, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rowena has found a way to corner you at last."

"She accused me of being "Crighton's woman through and through"."

"How very rude of her."

"I told her I was."

Crighton opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind me, Kenna the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry, and next to me, Sian beamed at me with pride. To my intense embarrassment, I suddenly realised that Crighton's bright green eyes looked rather watery, and I stared hastily at my own knees. When Crighton spoke, however, her voice was quite steady.

"I am very touched, Kiara."

"Scrimwazz wanted to know where you go when you're not at Dragon Mort," I said, still looking fixedly at my knees.

"Yes, she is very nosy about that," said Crighton, now sounding cheerful, and I thought it safe to look up again. "She has even attempted to have me followed. She set Dalca to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dalca once; I did it again with the greatest regret."

"So they still don't know where you go?" I asked, hoping for more information on this intriguing subject, but Crighton merely smiled at me.

"No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for either of you girls to know, either. Now, I suggest to press on, unless there's anything else - ?"

"There is, actually, ma'am," I said. "It's about Malty and Triphorm."

" _Professor_ Triphorm, Kiara."

"Yes, ma'am. I overheard them during Professor Beadu's party ... well, I followed them, actually ..."

Crighton listened to my story with an impassive face. When I had finished she did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me this, Kiara, but I suggest you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"Not of great importance?" I repeated incredulously. "Professor, did you understand - ?"

"Yes, Kiara, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me," said Crighton, a little sharply. "I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me discomfort."

Sian gave me an "I told you so" look, but I ignored her as I sat in a seething silence, glaring at Crighton. I wondered what was going on. did this mean that Crighton had indeed ordered Triphorm to find out what Malty was doing, in which case she had already heard everything I had just told her from Triphorm? Or was she really worried by what I had heard, but was pretending not to be?

"So, ma'am," I said, in what I hoped was a polite, calm voice, "you definitely still trust - ?"

"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," said Crighton, but she did not sound very tolerant any more. "My answer has not changed."

"I should think not," said a snide voice. Philomena Naenia was evidently only pretending to be asleep. Crighton ignored her.

"And now, Kiara, I must insist that we press on. I have important things to discuss with both yourself and Sian this evening."

I sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if I refused to permit the change of subject, if I insisted upon arguing the case against Malty? As though she had read my mind, Crighton shook her head.

"Ah, Kiara, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that what she has to say is much more important than anything the other might have to contribute!"

"I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, ma'am," I said stiffly.

"Well, you are quite right, because it is not," said Crighton briskly. "I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected."

I did not say anything to this; I still felt angry at the reception my confidences had received, but I could not see what was to be gained by arguing further.

"So," said Crighton, in a ringing voice, "but the three of us meet this evening to continue the tale of Dizra Maliay, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of her years at Dragon Mort. You will remember how excited to hear she was a witch, that she refused my company to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned her against continued thievery when she arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Dizra Maliay, a quiet girl in her second-hand robes, who lined up with the other first-years to be Sorted. She was placed in Snake-Eyes house almost the moment she had sat on the stool by the Snake-Head," continued Crighton, waving her blackened hand towards the shelf over her head where the Sorting-Chest lay. "How soon Maliay learned that the famous founder could talk to snakes and other reptiles, I do not know - perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited her and increased her sense of self-importance.

"However, if she was frightening or impressing fellow Snake-Eyes with displays of Parshydamouth in their common room, no word of it reached the staff. She showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very beautiful orphan, she naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of her arrival. She seemed polite, quiet and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were favourably impressed by her."

"Didn't you tell them, ma'am, what she'd been like when you met her at the orphanage?" I asked.

"No, I did not. Though she had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that she felt sorry for how she had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give her that chance."

Crighton paused and looked enquiringly at me as I opened my mouth to speak. Here, again, was Crighton's tendency to trust people in spite on overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it! But then I remembered something ...

"But you didn't _really_ trust her, ma'am, did you? She told me ... the Maliay who came out of that diary said "Crighton never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did"."

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that she was trustworthy," said Crighton. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye on her, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. She was very guarded with me; she felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering her true identity she had told me a little too much. She was careful never to reveal as much again, but she could not take back what she had let slip in her excitement, nor what Mrs Doyle had confided in me. However, she had the sense never to charm me as she charmed so many of my colleagues.

"As she moved up the school, she gathered abut her a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Maliay undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating towards a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Love Destroyers, and indeed some of them became the first Love Destroyers after leaving Dragon Mort.

"Rigidly controlled by Maliay, they were never detected in open wrong-doing, although their seven years at Dragon Mort were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Mysteries, which resulted in the death of a boy. As you both know, Mina was wrongly accused of that crime.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Maliay at Dragon Mort," said Crighton, placing her withered hand on the Pensieve. "Few who knew her then are prepared to talk about her; they are too terrified. What I know, what I found out after she had left Dragon Mort, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Maliay was obsessed with her parentage. This is understandable, of course; she had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how she came to be there. It seems that she searched in vain for some trace of Dizra Maliay Senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of Prefects in the old school records, even in the books of wizarding history. Finally she was forced to accept that her mother had never set foot in Dragon Mort. I believe that it was then that she dropped the name for ever, assumed the identity of Lady Zira, and began her investigation into her previously despised father's family - a man whom, you will remember, she had thought could not be a wizard if he had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.

"All she had to go on were the contents in a letter that Maliay got on her sixteenth birthday that was written by her father, given to her by Mrs Doyle, and in that letter he mentioned the names of his sister and mother, Makasha and Marmarin. Finally, after painstaking research through old books of wizarding families, she discovered the existence of Snake-Eyes' surviving line. In the summer of her sixteenth year, she left the orphanage to which she returned annually and set off to find her Mackay relatives. And now, Sian, Kiara, if you will both stand ..."

Crighton rose, and I saw that she was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.

"I was very lucky to collect this," she said, as she poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. "As you will both understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?"

Sian and I stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until our faces sank through the surface of the memory; I felt the familiar sensation of falling through nothingness and then I landed next to Sian upon a dirty stone floor into almost total darkness.

It took me several seconds to recognise the place, by which time Crighton had landed on my other side. The Mackays' house was now more incredibly filthy than anywhere I had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated with grime; mouldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a woman with hair so overgrown that I could see neither eyes nor mouth. She was slumped on the floor with her arms crossed by the fire, and I wondered for a moment whether she was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the door and the woman jerked awake, raising a wand in her right hand, and a short knife in her left.

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old-fashioned lamp, stood a girl I recognised at once: tall, pale, light-haired and beautiful - the teenage Zira.

Zira's eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the woman on the floor. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the woman staggered upright, the many empty bottles at her feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"You!" she bellowed. "YOU!"

And she hurtled drunkenly at Maliay, wand and knife held aloft.

 _"Stop."_

Maliay spoke in Parshydamouth. The woman skidded into the table, sending mouldy pots and pans crashing to the floor. She stared at Maliay. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The woman broke it.

 _"You speak it?"_

 _"Yes, I speak it,"_ said Maliay. She moved forwards into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind her. I could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Zira's complete lack of fear. Her face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

 _"Where is Marmarin?"_ she asked.

 _"Dead,"_ said the other. _"Died years ago, didn't she?"_

Maliay frowned.

 _"Who are you, then?"_

 _"I'm Makasha, ain't I?"_

 _"Marmarin's daughter?"_

 _"Course I am, then ..."_

Makasha pushed the hair out of her dirty face, the better to see Maliay, and I saw that she wore Marmarin's red-stoned ring on her right hand.

 _"I thought you was that Muggle,"_ whispered Makasha. _"You look mighty like that Muggle."_

 _"What Muggle?"_ said Maliay sharply.

 _"That Muggle what my brother took a fancy to, that Muggle who lives in the big house over the way,"_ said Makasha, and she spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. _"You look right like her. Maliay. But she's older now, i'n she? She's older'n you, now I think on it ..."_

Makasha looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, falling backwards on to the mattress at her feet, seeing as she had nothing to hold on to to support her.

 _"She came back, see,"_ she added stupidly.

Zira was gazing at Makasha, as though appraising her possibilities. Now she moved a little closer and said, _"Maliay came back?"_

 _"Ar, after she left him, and serve him right, running away with filth!"_ said Makasha, spitting on the floor again. _"Robbed us, mind, my brother did, before he ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Snake-Eyes locket?"_

Zira did not answer. Makasha was working herself into a rage again; she brandished her knife and shouted, _"Dishonoured us, he did, that bastard! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit ... it's over ..."_

She looked away, staggering slightly, and Zira moved forwards. As she did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Zira's lamp and Makasha's candle, extinguishing everything ...

Crighton's fingers closed tightly around my arm (Sian grabbed on to her mother's arm, as always) and we were soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in Crighton's office dazzled my eyes after that impenetrable darkness.

"Is that all?" I said at once. "Why did it go all dark, what happened?"

"Because Makasha could not remember anything from that point onwards," said Crighton, gesturing Sian and I back into our seats. "When she awoke next morning, she was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marmarin's ring had gone."

"Meanwhile, in the village of Port Harcourt, a maid was running down the hill, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Dizra Maliay Senior, and her mother and father.

"The Muggle South African authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they are not aware to this day how the Maliays died, for the Avada Kedavra Curse does not usually leave any sign of damage ... however, there are two exceptions to this: the first being Harry Potter, and I believe you know the second," Crighton added, with a nod to my scar. "The South African Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the valley from the Maliay house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people.

"So the South African Ministry called upon Makasha. They did not need to question her, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. She admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. She was proud, she said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting her chance all these years. She handed over her wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Maliays. And she permitted herself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that disturbed her was the fact that her mother's ring had disappeared. "She'll kill me for losing her ring." And that, apparently, was all she ever said again. She lived out the remainder of her life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marmarin's last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

"So Zira stole Makasha's wand and used it?" I said, sitting up straight.

"That's right," said Crighton. "We have no memories to show this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Zira Stupefied her aunt, took her wand, and proceeded across the valley to "the big house over the way". There she murdered the Muggle woman who abandoned her wizard father, and, for good measure, her Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Maliay line and revenging herself upon the mother who never wanted her. Then she returned to the Mackay hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in her aunt's mind, laid Makasha's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring she wore and departed."

"And Makasha never realised she hadn't done it?"

"Never," said Crighton. "She gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession."

"But she had this real memory within her all the time!"

"Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of her," said Crighton, "and why should anybody delve further into Makasha's mind when she had already confessed to the crime? However, I was able to secure a visit to Makasha in the last weeks of her life, by which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Zira's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Makasha's release from Azkaban. Before the South African Ministry reached their decision, however, Makasha had died."

"But how come the South African Ministry didn't realise that Zira had done all that to Makasha?" I asked angrily. "She was under age at the time, wasn't she? I thought they could detect under-age magic!"

"You are right - they can detect magic, but not its perpetrator: you will remember, Kiara, that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Charm that was, in fact, cast by - "

"Dokey," I growled; this injustice still rankled. "So if you're under age and you do magic inside a witch or wizard's house, the Ministry won't know?"

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," said Crighton at the looks of great shock and indignation on mine and Sian's faces. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"Well, that's rubbish," I snapped. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Makasha!"

"I agree," said Crighton. "Whatever Makasha was, she did not deserve to die as she did, blamed for murders she had not committed. But it was getting late, and I want you both to see this other memory before we part ..."

Crighton took from an inside pocket another crystal phial and I fell silent at once, remembering that Crighton had said it was the most important one she had collected. I noticed that the contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, as though they had congealed slightly; did memories go off?

"This will not take long," said Crighton, when she had finally emptied the phial. "The three of us shall be back before you know it. Once more into the Pensieve, then girls ..."

And Sian and I fell again through the silver surface, landing this time in front of a woman we recognised at once.

It was a much younger Arachne Beadu, yet much was different about her. She was still long, thin and bony, with long arms, legs and fingers. Her hair looked thicker and it cascaded in waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her long feet were resting upon a velvet pouffe, she was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystalized pineapple.

I looked around as Crighton appeared beside me and saw that the three of us were standing in Beadu's office. Half a dozen girls were sitting around Beadu, all on harder or lower seats than hers, and all in their mid-teens. I recognised Maliay at once. Hers was the most beautiful face and she looked the most relaxed of all the girls. Her right hand lay negligently upon the arm of her chair; with a jolt, I saw that she was already wearing Marmarin's red and silver ring; she had already killed her mother.

"Ma'am, is it true that Professor Cheerymind is retiring" Maliay asked.

"Dizra, Dizra, if I knew I wouldn't tell you," said Beadu, wagging a reproving, sugar-coated finger at Maliay, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, girl; more knowledgeable than half the staff you are."

Maliay smiled; the other girls laughed and cast her admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter - thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right it is my favourite - "

As several of the girls tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that I could see nothing but the calm face of Crighton beside me, and the confused face of Sian next to her. Then Beadu's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loud: _" - you'll go wrong, girl, mark my words."_

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody look as though anything unusual had just happened. Bewildered, I looked around as a small golden clock standing upon Beadu's desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" said Beadu. "You'd better get going, girls, or we'll all be in trouble. Aakster, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention."

Beadu pulled herself out of her armchair and carried her empty glass over to her desk as the girls filed out. Maliay, however, stayed behind. I could tell she had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with Beadu.

"Look sharp, Dizra," said Beadu, turning round and finding her still present. "You don't want to be caught out of bed after hours, and you a Prefect ..."

"Ma'am, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'girl, ask away ..."

"Ma'am, I wondered what you know about ... about Horcruxes?"

And it happened all over again: the dense fog filled the room so that I could not see Beadu or Maliay at all; only Crighton, smiling serenely next to me, and Sian, looking confused on her other side. Then Beadu's voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

 _"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!"_

"Well, that's that," said Crighton placidly. "Time to go."

And my feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, back on to the rug in front of Crighton's desk.

"That's all there is?" I said blankly.

Crighton had said that this was the most important memory of all, but I could not see what was so significant about it, and looking at Sian, I saw that she couldn't either. Admittedly, the fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that Maliay had asked a question and failed to get an answer.

"As you might have noticed," said Crighton, reseating herself behind her desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Tampered with?" I repeated, as Sian and I sat down.

"Certainly," said Crighton, "Professor Beadu has meddled with her own recollections."

"But why would she do that?"

"Because she's ashamed of it," said Sian matter-of-factly.

"Precisely, Sian," said Crighton. "She has tried to rework the memory to show herself in a better light, obliterating those parts which she does not wish me to see. It is, as you will both have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time I am giving you, and you alone, Kiara, homework. It will be your job to persuade Professor Beadu to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

I stared at her.

"But surely, ma'am," I said, keeping my voice as respectful as possible, "you don't need me - you could use Legilimency ... or Veritaserum ..."

"Professor Beadu is an extremely able witch who will be expecting both," said Crighton. "She is much more accomplished at Occlumecy than poor Makasha Mackay, and I would be astonished if she has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with her ever since I coerced her into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

"No, I thought it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Beadu by force, and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish her to leave Dragon Mort. However, she has her weaknesses like the rest of us and I believe that you are the only person who might be able to penetrate her defences. It is most important that we secure the true memory, Kiara ... how important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. Oh, and Sian?" she added suddenly, making Sian raise her head.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I am sorry to have to disappoint you, my darling, but I'm afraid that there are no books about Horcruxes in the library."

Sian looked downcast at this news. "Really?"

Crighton nodded her head solemnly. "I'm afraid so, my child."

Sian looked quite annoyed at this news and muttered, "Blast." Crighton chuckled before she turned her attention back on me and continued seriously.

"And that is why it is important for us to obtain this memory. As usual Sian, you will stay behind, and to you, Kiara, good luck ... and goodnight."

A little taken aback by this abrupt dismissal, I got to my feet quickly.

"Goodnight, ma'am."

As I closed the study door behind me, I distinctly heard Philomena Naenia say, "I can't see why the girl should be able to do it better than you, Crighton."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Philomena," replied Crighton, as Kenna gave another low, musical cry.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **A Bad Day For Chrissie**

 **KIARA**

The next day, Sian and I confided in Chris, and I went to confide in Chrissie on my own about the task that Crighton had set me: I had to see them separately, for Sian and Chris still refused to be in Chrissie's presence longer than it took for both of them to give her a contemptuous look.

Chrissie thought that I was unlikely to have any trouble with Beadu at all.

"She loves you," she said over breakfast, waving an airy forkful of fried egg. "Won't refuse you anything, will she? Not her little Potions Princess. Just hang back after class this afternoon and ask her."

Sian and Chris, however, both took a gloomier view.

"I admire Chrissie's optimism," Chris said, "but I think this is going to take a lot more planning than just marching up to Beadu and asking for the memory. It must be a very dark memory for her, judging from what you and Sian have told me."

"I agree," Sian whispered, "which is why she must be determined to hide what really happened if Ma couldn't get it out of her. Horcruxes ... _Horcruxes_ ... I've never even heard of them ..."

"You haven't?" I said, feeling disappointment rise within me; I had hoped that Sian might have been able to give me a clue as to what Horcruxes were.

"They must be really advanced Dark Magic, or why would Zira have wanted to know about them? I think it's going to be very difficult to get the information, Kiara, you'll have to be very careful about how you approach Beadu, think of a strategy."

"Chrissie reckons I should just hang back after Potions this afternoon ..."

"Oh, well, if _Chrissie-Wissy_ thinks that, you'd better do it," she said, firing up at once. "After all, when has _Chrissie-Wissy's_ judgement ever been faulty?"

"Sian, can't you - ?"

 _"No!"_ she said angrily, and stormed away, leaving Chris and I alone and ankle-deep in the snow. I turned to Chris, worry etched across my features. He smiled reassuringly at me.

"Don't worry, Kiara," he said. "This will sort itself out eventually. These things do, you know."

I smiled back at him, not entirely reassured, but I knew that he was right.

Potions lessons were uncomfortable enough in those days, seeing as Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had to share a desk. That day, Sian moved her cauldron around the table so that she was close to Chris, and ignored both Chrissie and I.

"What've _you_ done?" Chrissie muttered to me, looking at Sian's haughty profile.

But before I could answer, Beadu was calling for silence from the front of the room.

"Settle down, settle down, please! Quickly, now, lots of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott's Third Law ... who can tell me - ? But the Eldest Dawson Girl can, of course!"

Sian recited at top speed: "Golpalott's-Third-Law-states-that-the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-will-be-equal-to-more-than-the-sum-of-the-antidotes-for-each-of-the-separate-components."

"Precisely!" beamed Beadu. "Ten points for Lion-Heart! Now, if we accept Golpalott's Third Law as true ..."

I was going to have to take Beadu's word for it that Golpalott's Third Law was true, because I had not understood any of it. Nobody apart from Sian seemed to be following what Beadu had said, either.

" ... which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion's ingredients by Scarpin's Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in and of themselves, but to find that added component which will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements - "

Chrissie was sitting beside me with her mouth half open, drooling absently on her new copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. Chrissie kept forgetting that she could no longer rely on Sian to help her out of trouble when she failed to grasp what was going on.

" ... and so," finished Beadu, "I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!"

Sian had left her stool and was halfway towards Beadu's desk before the rest of us realised it was time to move, and by the time Chris, Chrissie and I returned to the table, she had already tipped the contents of her potion into her cauldron and was kindling a fire underneath it.

"It's a shame that the Princess won't be able to help you much with this, Kiara," she said brightly as she straightened up. "You have to understand the principles involved this time. No shortcuts or cheats!"

Annoyed, I uncorked the poison I had taken from Beadu's desk, which was a garish shade of pink, tipped it into my cauldron and lit a fire underneath it. I did not have the faintest idea what I was supposed to do next. I glanced at Chrissie, who was now standing there looking rather gormless, having copied everything I had done.

"You sure the Princess hasn't got any tips?" Chrissie muttered to me.

I pulled out my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ and turned to the chapter on Antidotes. There was Golpalott's Third Law, stated word for word as Sian had recited it, but not a single illuminating note in the Princess' hand to explain what it meant. Apparently the Princess, like Sian, had had no difficulty understanding it.

"Nothing," I said gloomily.

Sian was now waving her wand enthusiastically over her cauldron. Unfortunately, we could not copy the spell she was doing because she was now so good at non-verbal incantations that she did not need to say the words aloud. Chris, however, was muttering, _"Specialis revelio!"_ over his cauldron, which sounded impressive, so Chrissie and I hastened to imitate him.

It took me only five minutes to realise that my reputation as the best potion-maker in the class was crashing around my ears. Beadu had peered hopefully into my cauldron on her first circuit of the dungeon, preparing to exclaim in delight as she usually did, and instead had withdrawn her head hastily, coughing, as the smell of bad eggs overwhelmed her. Sian's expression could not have been any smugger; she had loathed being out-performed in every Potions class. She was now decanting the mysteriously separated ingredients of her potion into ten different crystal phials. More to avoid watching this irritating sight than anything else, I bent over the Half-Blood Princess' book and turned a few pages with unnecessary force.

And there it was, scrawled right across a long list of antidotes.

 _Just shove a bezoar down their throats._

I stared at those words for a moment. Hadn't I once, long ago, heard of a bezoar? Hadn't Triphorm mentioned them in our first ever Potions lesson? _"A stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will protect from most poisons."_

It was not an answer to the Golpalott problem, and had Triphorm still been our teacher, I would not have dared do it, but this was a moment for desperate measures. I hastened towards the store cupboard and rummaged within it, pushing aside unicorn horns and tangles of dried herbs until I found, at the very back, a small card box on which had been scribbled the word "Bezoars".

I opened the box just as Beadu called, "Two minutes left, everyone!" Inside were a dozen shrivelled brown objects, looking more like dried-up kidneys than real stones. I seized one, put the box back in the cupboard and hurried back to my cauldron.

"Time's ... UP!" called Beadu genially. "Well, let's see how you've done! Biana ... what have you got for me?"

Slowly, Beadu moved around the room, examining the various antidotes. Nobody had finished the task by the looks of things, although Sian was trying to cram in a few more ingredients into her bottle before Beadu reached her. Chrissie had given up completely, and was merely trying to avoid breathing in the putrid fumes issuing from her cauldron. Chris was looking at his nervously, possibly wondering what to do to make it better. I stood there waiting, the bezoar clutched in my slightly sweaty hand ...

Beadu reached our table last. She sniffed Chris' potion and passed on to Chrissie's with an impassive look. She did not linger over Chrissie's potion, but backed away swiftly, retching slightly.

"And you, Kiara?" she said. "What have you got to show me?"

I held out my hand, the bezoar sitting on my palm.

Beadu looked down at it for a full ten seconds. I wondered, for a moment, whether she was going to shout at me. Then she threw her head back and roared with laughter.

"You've got a nerve, girl!" she boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so that the rest of the class could see it. "Oh, you're like your father ... well, I can't fault you ... a bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these poisons!"

Sian, who was sweaty-faced and had soot on her nose, looked livid. Her half-finished antidote, comprising fifty-two ingredients including a chunk of her own hair, bubbled sluggishly behind Beadu, who had eyes for nobody but I.

"And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, Kiara?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"That's the individual spirit a real potion-maker needs!" said Beadu happily, before I could reply. "Just like her father, he had the same intuitive grasp of potion-making, it's undoubtedly from Simba she gets it ... yes, Kiara, yes, if you've got a bezoar to hand, of course that would do the trick ... although as they don't work on everything, and are pretty rare, it's still worth knowing how to fix antidotes ..."

The only person in the room looking angrier than Sian was Malty, who, I was pleased to see, had spilled something that looked like cat sick over herself. Before either of them could express their fury that I had come top of the class by not doing any work, however, the bell rang.

"Time to pack up!" said Beadu. "And an extra ten points to Lion-Heart for sheer cheek!"

Still chortling, she walked back to her desk at the front of the dungeon.

I dawdled behind, taking an inordinate amount of time to do up my bag. Neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie wished me luck as they left; the three of them looked rather annoyed. At last Beadu and I were the only two left in the room.

"Come on, now, Kiara, you'll be late for your next lesson," said Beadu affably, snapping the silver clasps shut on her dragonskin briefcase.

"Ma'am," I said, reminding myself irresistibly of Zira, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, my dear girl, ask away ..."

"Ma'am, I was wondering what you know about ... about Horcruxes?"

Beadu froze. Her long, bony face paled instantly. She licked her lips and said hoarsely, "What did you say?"

"I asked whether you know anything about Horcruxes, ma'am. You see - "

"Crighton put you up to this," whispered Beadu.

Her voice had changed completely. It was not genial any more, but shocked, terrified. She fumbled in her breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, mopping her sweaty brow.

"Crighton's shown you that - that memory," said Beadu. "Well? Hasn't she?"

"Yes," I said, deciding on the spot that it was best not to lie.

"Yes, of course," said Beadu quietly, still dabbing at her white face. "Of course ... well, if you've seen that memory, Kiara, you will know that I don't know anything - _anything_ \- " she repeated forcefully " - about Horcruxes."

She seized her dragonskin briefcase, stuffed her handkerchief back into her pocket and marched to the dungeon door.

"Ma'am," I said desperately, "I just thought there might be a bit more to the memory - "

"Did you?" said Beadu. "Then you were wrong, weren't you? WRONG!"

She bellowed the last word and, before I could say another word, slammed the dungeon door behind her.

Neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie was at all sympathetic when I told them of this disastrous interview. Chris thought I could have tried harder to get the memory from Beadu. Sian was still seething at the way I had triumphed without doing the work properly. Chrissie was resentful that I hadn't slipped her a bezoar, too.

"It would've just looked stupid if we'd both done it!" I said irritably. "Look, I had to try and soften her up so I could ask her about Zira, didn't I? Oh, will you _get a grip_!" I added in exasperation, as Chrissie winced at the sound of the name.

Infuriated by my failure and by Chris, Sian and Chrissie's attitudes, I brooded for the next few days over what to do next about Beadu. I decided that, for the time being, I would let Beadu think I had forgotten all about Horcruxes; I believed that it was surely best to lull her into a false sense of security before returning to the attack.

When I did not question Beadu again, the Potions mistress reverted to her usual affectionate treatment of me, and appeared to have put the matter from her mind. I awaited an invitation to one of her little evening parties, determined to accept this time, even if I had to reschedule Quidditch practice. Unfortunately, however, no such invitation arrived. I checked with Chris and Sian: neither of them had received an invitation and nor, as far as they knew, had anyone else. I could not help wondering whether this meant that Beadu was not quite as forgetful as she appeared, simply determined to give me no additional opportunities to question her.

Meanwhile, the Dragon Mort library had failed Sian for the first time in living memory. She was so shocked, she even forgot that she was annoyed at me for my trick with the bezoar.

"Well, Ma was right when she told me that there were no books about Horcruxes in the library, because I haven't found one single explanation of what Horcruxes do!" she told me. "Not a single one! I've been right through the restricted section and even in the most _horrible_ books, where they tell you how to brew the most _gruesome_ potions - nothing! All I could find was this, in the introduction to _Magick Moste Evile_ \- Listen - "Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction" ... I mean, why mention it, then?" she said impatiently, slamming the old book shut; it let out a ghostly wail. "Oh, shut up," she snapped, stuffing it back into her bag.

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that we sixth-years had our first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, but took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.

When Sian and I arrived in the Hall (Chris had come down with Dena, and Chrissie with Larry) we found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above us as we assembled in front of Professors Darbus, Triphorm, Winds and Spud - the Heads of House - and a small witch whom I took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. She was oddly colourless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow her away. I wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished her substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish.

"Good morning," said the Ministry witch, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of House had called for quiet. "My name is Wilma Triggs and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition test in this time - "

"Malty, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor Darbus.

We all looked round. Malty had blushed a dull pink; she looked furious as she stepped away from Crate, with whom she appeared to have been having a whispered argument. I glanced quickly at Triphorm, who also looked annoyed, though I strongly suspected that this was less because of Malty's rudeness than the face that Darbus had reprimanded one of her house.

" - by which time, many of you may be ready to take your test," Triggs continued, as though there had been no interruption.

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Dragon Mort. The Headmistress has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasise that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet space in front of you."

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of House moved among us students, marshalling us into position and breaking up arguments.

"Kiara, where are you going?" demanded Sian.

But I did not answer; I moved quickly through the crowd, past the place where Professor Winds was making squeaky attempts to position a few Raven-Wings, all of whom wanted to be near the front, past Spud, who was chivvying the Badger-Stripes into line, until, by dodging around Emily Mac, I managed to position myself right at the back of the crowd, directly behind Malty, who was taking advantage of the general upheaval to continue her argument with Crate, standing five feet away and looking mutinous.

"I don't know how much longer, all right?" Malty shot at her, completely unaware that I was standing right behind her. "It's taking longer than I thought it would."

Crate opened her mouth, but Malty appeared to second-guess what she was going to say.

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crate, you and Gabber just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"

"I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," I said, just loud enough for Malty to hear me.

Malty spun round on the spot, her hand flying to her wand, but at that precise moment the four Heads of House shouted, "Quiet!" and silence fell again. Malty turned slowly to face the front.

"Thank you," said Triggs. "Now then ..."

She waved her wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three Ds!" said Triggs. "Destination, Determination and Deliberation!

"Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired _destination_ ," said Triggs. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

We all looked around furtively, to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then we hastily did as we were told. I gazed at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by my hoop and I tried hard to think of nothing else. This proved impossible, as I couldn't stop puzzling over what Malty was doing that needed lookouts.

"Step two," said Triggs, "focus your _determination_ to occupy the visualised space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!"

I glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to my left, Emily Mac was contemplating her hoop so hard that her face had turned pink; it looked as though she was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. I bit back a laugh and hastily returned my gaze to my own hoop.

"Step three," called Triggs, "and only when I give the command ... turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with _deliberation_! On my command, now ... one - "

I glanced around again; lots of people were looking positively alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly.

" - two - "

I tried to fix my thoughts on my hoop again; I had already forgotten what the three Ds stood for.

" - THREE!"

I spun on the spot, lost my balance and nearly fell over. I was not the only one. The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Nikita was flat on her back; Emily Mac, on the other hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap and looked momentarily thrilled, until she caught sight of Dena Wright overcome with giggles at the sight of her.

"Never mind, never mind," said Triggs dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions ..."

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible yell of pain and we all looked around, terrified, to see Seanan Bongos of Badger-Stripes wobbling in his hoop with his left leg still standing five feet away from where he had started.

The Heads of House converged on him; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Seanan, white-faced, reunited with his leg but looking horrified.

"Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," said Wilma Triggs dispassionately, "occurs when the mind is insufficiently _determined_. You must concentrate continually upon your _destination_ , and move, without haste, but with _deliberation_ ... thus."

Triggs stepped forward, turned gracefully on the spot with her arms outstretched and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall.

"Remember the three Ds," she said, "and try again ... one - two - three - "

But an hour later, Seanan's Splinching was still the most interesting thing that had happened. Triggs did not seem discourage. Fastening her cloak at her neck, she merely said, "Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._ "

With that, she waved her hand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor Darbus. Talk broke out at once as people began moving towards the Entrance Hall.

"How did you do?" asked Chrissie, hurrying towards me. "I think I felt something the last time I tried - a kind of tingling in my feet."

"I expect your shoes are too small, Chrissie-Wissy," said a voice from behind us and Sian stalked past, smirking.

"I didn't feel anything," I said, ignoring this interruption. "But I don't care about that now - "

"What d'you mean, you don't care ... don't you want to learn to Apparate?" said Chrissie incredulously.

"I'm not fussed, really. I prefer flying," I said, glancing over my shoulder to see where Malty was, and speeding up as we came into the Entrance Hall. "Look, hurry up, will you, there's something I want to do ..."

Perplexed, Chrissie followed me back to Lion-Heart Tower at a run. We were temporarily detained by Weeves, who had jammed a door on the fourth floor shut and was refusing to let anyone pass until they set fire to their own pants, but Chrissie and I simply turned back and took one of our trusted shortcuts. Within five minutes, we were climbing through the portrait hole.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing, then?" asked Chrissie, panting slightly.

"Up here," I said, and I crossed the common room and led the way up the staircase, turned left and went through the door to the girls' dormitories.

Our dormitory was, as I had hoped, empty. I flung open my trunk and began to rummage in it, while Chrissie watched impatiently.

"Kiara ..."

"Malty's using Crate and Gabber as lookouts. She was arguing with Crate just now. I want to know ... aha."

I had found it, a folded square of apparently blank parchment, which I smoothed out and tapped with the tip of my wand.

" _I solemnly swear that I shall do no good_ ... or Malty is, anyway."

At once, the Scallywag Map appeared on the parchment's surface. Here was a detailed plan of every one of the castle's floors and, moving around it, the tiny, labelled black dots that signified each of the castle's occupants.

"Help me find Malty," I said urgently.

I laid the Map upon the bed and Chrissie and I leaned over it, searching.

 _"There!"_ said Chrissie, after a minute or so. "She's in the Snake-Eyes common room, look ... with Parker and Zamba and Crate and Gabber ..."

I looked down at the Map, disappointed, but rallied almost at once.

"Well, I'm keeping an eye on her from now on," I said firmly. "And the moment I see her lurking somewhere with Crate and Gabber keeping watch outside, it'll be on with the old Invisibility Cloak and off to find out what she's - "

I broke off as Beth entered the dormitory, scowling, bringing with her a strong smell of singed material, and began rummaging in her trunk for a fresh pair of pants.

Despite my determination to catch Malty out, I had no luck at all over the next couple of weeks. Although I consulted the Map as often as I could, sometimes making unnecessary visits to the bathroom between lessons to search it, I did not once see Malty anywhere suspicious. Admittedly, I spotted Crate and Gabber moving around the castle on their own more often than usual, sometimes remaining stationary in deserted corridors, but at these times Malty was not only nowhere near them, but impossible to locate on the Map at all. This was most mysterious. I toyed with the possibility that Malty was actually leaving the school grounds, but I could not see how she could be doing it, given the very high level of security now operating within the castle. I could only suppose that I was missing Malty amongst the hundreds of tiny black dots upon the Map. As for the fact that Malty Crate and Gabber appeared to be going their different ways when they were usually inseparable, these things happened as people got older - Chris, Sian and Chrissie, I reflected sadly, were living proof.

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. Now, before I moved on, I should tell you that about the middle of February, about four days after Valentine's Day, I got a letter from my father with some wonderful news.

 _Dear Kiara,_

 _I am writing this while your mother is asleep, which she needs, seeing as she had a long, hard Valentine's night bringing your brother into the world._

 _Yes, Kiara, you are a sister! The labour went well, and both mother and baby are fine, although during it, your mother did a lot of yelling at many people, including me, but she was in a lot of pain. We have decided to call him Kion, and your little brother is such a little bundle of joy to be around. Everyone loves him. A picture has been taken and I will be posting it to you with this letter. He is healthy and is already proving himself to be a little bundle of energy, who I'm sure will be keeping your mother and I busy over the next few years - and you as well. We've mentioned you to him a few times and he brightens up when he hears about you, which I think is a good sign that he wants to meet his big sister._

 _Anyway, I thought I would write to you seeing as your mother and I haven't heard from you in a while. Are you all right? Are you keeping your head down? How are your lessons going? Whether the news is big or small, we want to hear from you, all right?_

 _Well, I'm going to finish here. Your brother's crying and I see your mother stirring. So that's our good news. Let us know your news when you get the chance to write, good or bad, let us know._

 _Love you,_

 _Daddy, Mum and Baby Kion_

I was so happy with the news that I started crying. Chrissie, who I was sat next to at the breakfast table, asked me, "What's up? Has someone died? Is it Simba or Nala?"

I shook my head, unable to speak, as I looked in the envelope and pulled out a picture of my brother, who I saw at first glance looked a lot like my father: same face, same shaped eyes (the colour of which did turn into the same light shade of brown as my father's after a little while), the same mouth and the same hair colour. The picture was, of course, moving: my brother, Kion, was covered in a blanket and was waving at the camera, and from the way his body was moving, he was giggling. I smiled at the photograph, feeling contented at how blessed my family was, and delighted that my brother was all right. _My brother_ ... it felt so odd for me to say!

I showed the photograph to Chrissie, who said, "Aww! He's so _cute_!", which made a lot of people come up to us and look at what all the commotion was about. When they saw the picture of the baby and they asked who he was, and when I told them he was my brother, they congratulated me; among those who were there behind us were Chris and Sian, who I had not expected seeing as they and Chrissie weren't on speaking terms, but I didn't mind. I was just happy for my family, and all day people kept congratulating me and my family about the arrival of my brother, which also included Professors Darbus and Beadu, who I promised that the next time I wrote to my parents that I would send them their best wishes.

Anyhoo, to general indignation, a sign went up on all common room noticeboards that the next trip into Dragsmede had been cancelled. To say that Chrissie was disappointed was an understatement.

"Aww, man, I was really looking forward to getting out of the castle for a few hours!" she said.

"Not a big surprise, though, is it?" I said. "Not after what happened to Keith."

He had still not returned from St Mungo's. What was more, further disappearances had been reported in the _Daily Squabbler_ , including several relatives of students at Dragon Mort.

"Great, now all I've got to look forward to is stupid Apparition!" said Chrissie grumpily.

Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as difficult as ever, though a few more people had managed to Splinch themselves. Frustration was rumbling high and there was a certain amount of ill-feeling towards Wilma Triggs and her three Ds, which had inspired a number of nicknames for her, the politest of which were Dog-breath and Dung-head.

On the first of March, Chrissie and I had been woken by Beth and Kestrel leaving noisily for breakfast. Sian had left much earlier than the rest, wanting to spend as little time as possible in Chrissie's presence in those days.

"Shall we go down to breakfast, then?" said Chrissie drowsily, rubbing her eyes and getting out of bed.

"In a bit, I just want to check something first," I said, getting out of bed, opening my trunk and rummaging in it for the Scallywags Map, which I hid after every use. I turfed out half the contents of my trunk before I found it hiding behind the rolled-up socks in which I was still keeping my bottle of lucky potion, Felix Felicis.

I took the Map back to bed with me, tapping it quietly and muttering, "I solemnly swear that I shall do no good," so that Merida, who was passing the foot of my bed, would not hear.

My eyes turned to the Snake-Eyes dormitory, which I searched closely for a sign of Malty. "Hey ... I don't think she's in her bed ..."

Chrissie did not answer; she was busy trying to wake herself up, whilst getting herself dressed.

I peered more closely at the Map. Where was Malty? She did not seem to be at the Snake-Eyes table in the Great Hall, eating breakfast ... she was nowhere near Triphorm, who was sitting in her study ... she wasn't in any of the bathrooms or in the hospital wing ...

"Want one?" said Chrissie thickly, holding out a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

"No thanks," I said, looking up. "Malty's gone again!"

"Can't have done," said Chrissie, stuffing a second Cauldron into her mouth as she slid out of bed to get dressed. "Come on, if you don't hurry up you'll have to Apparate on an empty stomach ... might make it easier, I suppose ..."

Chrissie looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped herself to a third.

I tapped the Map with my wand, muttered, "Mischief Achieved," though it hadn't been, and than I got dressed, thinking hard. There had to be an explanation for Malty's periodic disappearances, but I simply could not think what it could be. The best way of finding out would be to tail her, but even with the Invisibility Cloak this was an impractical idea; I had lessons, Quidditch practice, homework and Apparition; I could not follow Malty around school all day without my absence being remarked upon.

"Ready?" I said to Chrissie.

I was halfway to the dormitory door when I realised that Chrissie had not moved, but was leaning on her bedpost, staring out of the rain-washed window with a strangely unfocused look on her face.

"Chrissie? Breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

I stared at her.

"I thought you just said - ?"

"Well, all right, I'll come down with you," sighed Chrissie, "but I don't want to eat."

I scrutinised her suspiciously.

"You've just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven't you?"

"It's not that," Chrissie sighed again. "You ... you wouldn't understand."

"Fair enough," I said, albeit puzzled, as I turned to open the door.

"Kiara!" said Chrissie suddenly.

"What?"

"Kiara, I can't stand it!"

"You can't stand what?" I asked, starting to feel definitely alarmed. Chrissie was rather pale and her eyes were bright.

"I can't stop thinking about him!" said Chrissie in a breathy voice.

I gaped at her. I had not expected this and I was not sure I wanted to hear it. Friends we might be, but if Chrissie started calling Larry "Law-Law", I would have to put my foot down.

"Why does that stop you having breakfast?" I said, bewildered. "He keeps snogging you, doesn't he?"

Chrissie blinked.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Who are _you_ talking about?" I said, with an increasing sense that all reason had dropped out of the conversation.

"Ronnie Vaughn," said Chrissie softly, as she blushed furiously and giggled. This eventually died down as her eyes became glazed and dreamy-looking, and her whole face seemed to illuminate, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight.

We stared at each other for a whole minute, before I said, "This is a joke, right? You're joking."

"I think ... Kiara, I think I love him," said Chrissie in a straight voice.

"OK," I said, walking up to Chrissie to get a better look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, "OK ... say that again with a straight face."

"I love him," repeated Chrissie breathlessly. "Have you seen his hair, it's all roughed-up and shiny and black ... and his eyes? His big dark eyes? And his - ?"

"This is really funny and everything," I said impatiently, "but joke's over, all right? Drop it."

I turned to leave; I got two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit me on my right ear. Staggering, I looked round. Chrissie's fist was drawn right back, her face contorted with rage; she was about to strike again.

I reacted instinctively; my wand was out of my pocket and the incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: _Levicorpus_!

Chrissie yelled as her heel was wrenched upwards once more; she dangled helplessly, upside-down, her robes hanging off her.

 _"What was that for?"_ I bellowed.

"You insulted him, Kiara! You said that it was a joke!" shouted Chrissie, who was slowly turning purple in the face as all the blood rushed to her head.

"This is insane!" I said. "What's got into - ?"

And then I saw the box lying open on Chrissie's bed and the truth hit me with the force of a stampeding troll.

"Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?"

"I found them on my bed!" shouted Chrissie, revolving slowly in mid-air as she struggled to get free. "I offered you one, didn't I?"

"You didn't find them on your bed, you idiot, don't you understand? They were mine, I chucked them out of my trunk when I was looking for the Map. They're the Chocolate Cauldrons Ronnie gave to me before Christmas and they're spiked with love potion!"

But only one word of this seemed to have registered with Chrissie.

"Ronnie?" she repeated. "Did you say Ronnie? Kiara - do you know him? Can you introduce me?"

I stared at the dangling Chrissie, whose face now looked tremendously hopeful, and I fought a strong desire to laugh. A part of me - the part closest to my throbbing right ear - was quite keen on the idea of letting Chrissie down and watching her run amok until the effects of the potion wore off ... but on the other hand, we were supposed to be friends, Chrissie had not been herself when she had attacked, and I thought that I would deserve another punching - not necessarily from Chrissie - if I permitted Chrissie to declare her undying love to Ronnie Vaughn.

"Yeah, I'll introduce you," I said, thinking fast. "I'm going to let you down now, OK?"

I sent Chrissie back to the floor (my ear did hurt quite a lot), but Chrissie simply bounded to her feet again, grinning.

"He'll be in Beadu's office," I said confidently, leading the way to the door.

"Why will he be in there?" asked Chrissie anxiously, hurrying to keep up.

"Oh, he has extra potions lessons with her," I said, inventing wildly.

"Maybe I could ask if I can have them with him?" said Chrissie eagerly.

"Great idea," I said.

Larry was waiting beside the portrait hole, a complication I had not foreseen.

"You're late, Chrissie-Wissy!" he pined. "I thought we could go down to - "

"Leave me alone," said Chrissie impatiently. "Kiara's going to introduce me to Ronnie Vaughn."

And without another word to him, she pushed her way out of the portrait hole. I tried to make an apologetic face to Larry, but it might have turned out simply amused, because he looked more offended than ever as the Fat Lord swung shut behind us.

I had been slightly worried that Beadu might be at breakfast, but she answered her office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing-gown and looking rather bleary-eyed.

"Kiara," she mumbled. "This is very early for a call ... I generally sleep late on a Saturday ..."

"Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you," I said as quietly as possible, while Chrissie stood on tiptoe, attempting to see past Beadu into her room, "but my friend Chrissie's swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn't make her an antidote, could you? I'd take her to Matron, but we're not supposed to have anything from Fangs' Friendly Funnies and, you know ... awkward questions ..."

"I'd have thought you could have whipped her up a remedy, Kiara, an expert potioneer like you?" asked Beadu.

"Er," I said, somewhat distracted by the fact that Chrissie was now elbowing me in the ribs in an attempt to force her way into the room, "well, I've never mixed an antidote before, ma'am, and by the time I've done it right, Chrissie might've done something serious - "

Helpfully, Chrissie chose this moment to moan, "I can't see him, Kiara - is she hiding him?"

"Was this potion within date?" asked Beadu, now eyeing Chrissie with professional interest. "They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept."

"That would explain a lot," I panted, now positively wrestling with Chrissie to keep her from knocking Chrissie over. "It's her birthday, Professor," I added imploringly - yes, I lied, but desperate times called for desperate measures ... don't judge me!

"Oh, all right, come in, then, come in," said Beadu, relenting. "I've got the necessary here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote ..."

Chrissie burst through the door into Beadu's overheated, crowded study, tripped over a tasselled footstool, regained her balance by seizing me around the neck and muttered, "He didn't see that, did he?"

"He's not here yet," I said, watching Beadu opening her potion kit and adding a few pinches of this and that to a small crystal bottle.

"That's good," said Chrissie fervently. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," said Beadu smoothly, handing Chrissie a glass of clear liquid. "Now drink this up, it's a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when he arrives, you know."

"Brilliant," said Chrissie eagerly, and she gulped the antidote down noisily.

Beadu and I watched her. For a moment, Chrissie beamed at us. Then, very slowly, her grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.

"Back to normal, then?" I said, grinning. Beadu chuckled. "Thanks a lot, Professor."

"Don't mention it, m'girl, don't mention it," said Beadu, as Chrissie collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated. "Pick-me-up, that's what she needs," Beadu continued, now bustling over to a table loaded with drinks. "I've got Butterbeer, I've got wine, I've got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead ... hmm ... meant to give that to Crighton for Christmas ... ah well ..." she shrugged " ... she can't miss what she's never had! Why don't we open it now and celebrate Miss Dawson's birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love ..."

She chortled again and I joined in, doing my best to disguise the guilt I felt at lying to Beadu, but I quickly pushed those feelings aside; I would think about the consequences later. This was the first time I had found myself alone with Beadu since my disastrous first attempt to extract the true memory from her. Perhaps, if I could just keep Beadu in a good mood ... perhaps if we got through enough of the oak-matured mead ...

"There you are, then," said Beadu, handing Chrissie and I a glass of mead each, before raising her own. "Well, a very happy birthday, Caroline - "

" - Chrissie - " I whispered.

But Chrissie, who did not appear to be listening to the toast, had already thrown the mead into her mouth and swallowed it.

There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which I knew there was something terribly wrong and Beadu, it seemed, did not.

" - and may you have many more - "

 _"Chrissie!"_

Chrissie had dropped her glass; she half-rose from her chair and then crumpled, her extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from her mouth and her eyes were bulging from their sockets.

"Professor!" I bellowed. "Do something!"

But Beadu seemed paralysed by shock. Chrissie twitched and choked; her skin was turning blue.

"What - but - " spluttered Beau.

I leapt over a low table and sprinted towards Beadu's open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Chrissie's gurgling breath filled the room. Then I found it - the shrivelled kidney-like stone Beadu had taken from me in Potions.

I hurtled back to Chrissie's side, wrenched open her jaw and thrust the bezoar into her mouth. Chrissie gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp and her body became limp and still.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 **Elf Tales**

 **KIARA**

"So, all in all, not one of Chrissie's better days?" said Tanya.

It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Chrissie's was the only occupied bed. Myself, the Dawsons and Tanya and Geri were sitting around her; we had spent all day sitting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Matron had only let us in at eight o'clock; normally, Matron only allowed six visitors in, but seeing as I was close to Chrissie and all the Dawsons and Tanya and Geri were there (except for Sian, and we'll get to why shortly), she made the exception. Tanya and Geri had arrived at ten past.

"This isn't how we imagined meeting up with you guys," said Geri grimly.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, she was conscious," said Tanya.

"There we were in Dragsmede, waiting to surprise you all - " said Geri.

"You were in Dragsmede?" said Chris, looking up.

"We were thinking of buying Whacko's," said Tanya gloomily. "A Dragsmede branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff any more ... but never mind that now."

She drew up a chair beside me and looked at Chrissie's pale face.

"How exactly did it happen, Kiara?"

I retold the story I had already recounted what felt like a hundred times to Crighton, to Darbus, to Matron and to the Dawsons.

" ... and then I got the bezoar down her throat and her breathing eased up a bit, Beadu ran for help, Darbus and Matron turned up, and they brought Chrissie up here. They reckon she'll be all right. Matron says she'll have to stay here a week or so ... keep taking Essence of Rue ..."

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said Geri in a low voice.

"Lucky there was one in the room," I said, and every time I thought of what would have happened if I had not been able to lay hands on that little stone, my blood went cold.

Ben then let go of a long, steadying breath. He had been exceptionally quiet all day. He was the first of the Dawsons to reach me outside the hospital wing and demand to know what had happened. He had taken no part in mine and the Dawson's discussion about how Chrissie had been poisoned, but merely stood beside us, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last we had all been allowed in to see her.

Tanya looked around and, realising one of our number was missing, asked, "Where's Sian? It's not like her to be apart from her family at a time like this."

"Oh, I saw her earlier," I said. "It was just as Darbus and Matron were bringing Chrissie here. I think she was coming back from breakfast, I'm not sure. Anyway, she saw me and asked what had happened to Chrissie, so I told her that Chrissie had been poisoned, at which point she started to panic, thinking that she had lost her, but I calmed her down and told her that I had given her a bezoar, and that's all I said before she ran off. Where to, I don't - "

"She ran to us," said Kestrel softly. "Fortunately, we were all in the common room having just come back from breakfast ourselves, and we were just about to finish the last bit of homework we all had that weekend, when Sian comes barging through the portrait hole, looking white-faced and scared and, ignoring everyone else there, she looks right at us and said, 'Chrissie's been poisoned! She's all right, Kiara saved her, but she's unconscious! She's being taken to hospital right now! I'm going to get Ma!' Then she turned and ran, and nor a second later, we all abandoned our stuff and ran out of the portrait hole, too, and came here."

Tanya turned to Chris and asked, "So ... Uncle Matt and Aunt Sue - ?"

"They've been to see her. Ma came hours ago, and Dad came here about an hour ago - they're with Sian in Ma's office now, but they'll be back soon ..."

There was a pause while we all watched Chrissie mumble in her sleep.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Tanya quietly.

"Yes," I said at once; I could think of nothing else and was glad for the opportunity to start discussing it again. "Beadu poured it out - "

"Would she have been able to slip something into Chrissie's glass without you seeing?"

"Probably," I said, "but why would Beadu want to poison Chrissie?"

"No idea," said Tanya, frowning. "You don't think she could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get to you?"

"Why would Beadu want to poison Kiara?" asked Chris.

"I dunno," said Tanya, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison Kiara, mustn't there? The 'Chosen One' and all that."

"So you think Beadu's a Love Destroyer?" said Merida incredulously.

"Anything's possible," said Tanya darkly.

"She could be under the Imperius Curse," said Geri.

"Or she could be innocent," said Chris. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Beadu herself."

"An excellent point, Chris," said Kestrel. Chris nodded at her.

"Who'd want to kill Beadu, though?" said Geri.

"Crighton reckons Zira wanted Beadu on her side," I said. "Beadu was in hiding a year before she came to Dragon Mort. And ..." I thought of the memory Crighton had not yet been able to extract from Beadu, "and maybe Zira wants her out of the way, maybe she thinks she could be valuable to Crighton."

"But you said Beadu had been planning to give that bottle to Ma for Christmas," Chris reminded me. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Ma."

"Then the poisoner didn't know Beadu very well," said Kestrel. "Anyone who knew Beadu would have known there was a good chance she'd keep something that tasty for herself."

"Kestrel's right," said Ben unexpectedly, speaking for the first time and sounding as though he had a bad head-cold. "I don't know Beadu that well, but from what I've heard from Sian, she likes a few tasty treats - not a lot, but a few."

"Ben-jee," croaked Chrissie unexpectedly.

We all fell silent, watching her anxiously, but after muttering incomprehensively for a moment she merely started snoring.

The dormitory doors flew open, making us all jump: Mina came striding towards us, her hair rain-flecked, her moleskin coat flapping around her, a crossbow in her hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor.

"Bin in the Forest all day!" she panted. "Aratota's worse, I bin readin' to her - didn' get up ter dinner 'til jus' now an' then Spud told me abou' Chrissie! How is she?"

"Only close friends and family visiting the patient!" said Matron, hurrying out of her office.

"Mina is a close friend of Chrissie's," Geri pointed out.

"Oh ... yes ..." said Matron, who seemed to have been counting Mina as several people due to her vastness. To cover her confusion she hurried off to clear up her muddy footprints with her wand.

"I don' believe this," said Mina hoarsely, shaking her great head as she stared down at Chrissie. "Jus' don' believe it ... look at her lyin' there ... who'd want ter hurt her, eh?"

"That's what we were discussing," I said. "We don't know."

"Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Lion-Heart Quidditch team, could they?" said Mina anxiously. "Firs' Keith, now Chrissie ..."

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," said Geri.

"Cane might've done the Snake-Eyes if she could've got away with it," said Tanya fairly.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection between the attacks," said Kestrel quietly.

"How'd you work that out?" asked Tanya.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

Before any of us could respond to this ominous pronouncement, the dormitory doors opened again and Mr Dawson, Crighton and Sian hurried up the ward. Mr Dawson and Crighton had done no more than satisfy themselves that Chrissie would make a full recovery on their last visit to the ward: now Sian ran to me and hugged me so hard that I staggered back a little.

"Thank you for saving my sister, Kiara," she mumbled. Then, pulling back, she smiled at me and said, "Ma told me how you saved her with the bezoar. Oh, Kiara, what can we say? You've saved my life a fair few times ... you saved Kestrel ... you saved my father ... now you've saved Chrissie ..."

"Don't be ... I didn't ..." I said awkwardly.

"Yes, you did, Kiara," said Crighton, her eyes sparkling with pride, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. "You have no idea how much good you've done for our family, Kiara. We truly are blessed to know you."

"Susan's right, for now that I think about it, half our family does seem to owe you their lives," said Mr Dawson in a constricted voice. "Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Dawsons when Sian decide to let you sit with her, Chris and Chrissie in the submarine, Kiara."

I could not think of any reply to this and I was almost glad when Matron said that only the Dawsons and Tanya and Geri were allowed in; I rose at once to leave and Mina came with me, leaving Chrissie with her family.

"It's terrible," growled Mina, as the two of us walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase. "All this new security, an' kids are still gettin' hurt ... Crighton's worried sick ... she don' say much, but I can tell ..."

"Hasn't she got any ideas, Mina?" I asked.

"I 'spect she's got hundreds of ideas, brain like hers," said Mina staunchily. "But she doesn' know who sent that necklace nor who put poison in that wine, or they'd've bin caught, wouldn' they? Wha' worries me," said Mina, lowering her voice and glancing over her shoulder (for good measure, I checked the ceiling for Weeves), "is how long Dragon Mort can stay open if kids are bein' attacked. Chamber o' Mysteries all over again, isn' it? There'll be panc, more parents takin' their kids outta school, an' nex' thing yeh know the board o' governors ..."

Mina stopped talking as the ghost of a man wearing a pointed wizard's hat drifted serenely past, then resumed in a hoarse whisper, "... the board o' governors'll be talkin' about shuttin' us up fer good."

"No!" I said, shocked.

"Gotta see it from their point o' view," said Mina heavily. "I mean, it's always bin a bit of a risk sendin' a kid ter Dragon Mort, hasn' it? Yer expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of under-age wizards all locked up together, but attempted murder, tha's diff'rent. No wonder Crighton's angry with Tr- "

Mina stopped in her tracks, a familiar, guilty expression on her face.

"What?" I said quickly. "Crighton's angry with Triphorm?"

"I never said tha'," said Mina, though her look of panic could not have been a bigger giveaway. "Look at the time, it's gettin' on fer midnight, I need ter - "

"Mina, why is Crighton angry with Triphorm?" I asked loudly.

"Shhhh!" said Mina, looking both nervous and angry. "Don' shout stuff like that, Kiara, d'you wan' me ter lose me job? Mind, I don' suppose you'd care, would yeh, not now you've given up Care of Mag- "

"Don't try and make me feel guilty, it won't work!" I said forcefully. "What's Triphorm done - ?"

"I dunno, Kiara, I shouldn'ta heard it at all! I - well, I was comin' outta the Forest the other evenin' an' I overheard 'em talkin' - well, arguin'. Didn't like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an' tried not ter listen, but it was a - well, a heated discussion, an' it wasn' easy ter block out."

"Well?" I urged her, as Mina shuffled her enormous feet uneasily.

"Well - I jus' heard Triphorm sayin' Crighton took too much fer granted an maybe she - Triphorm - didn' wan' ter do it any more - "

"Do what?"

"I dunno, Kiara, it sounded like Triphorm was feelin' a bit overworked, tha's all - anyway, Crighton told her flat out she'd agreed ter do it an' that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with her. An' then she said summat about Triphorm makin' investigations in her house, in Snake-Eyes. Well, there's nothing's strange abou' that!" Mina added hastily, as I shot her a look full of meaning. "All the Heads o' House were asked ter look inter that necklace business - "

"Yeah, but Crighton's not having rows with the rest of them, is she?" I said.

"Look," Mina twisted her crossbow uncomfortably in her hands; there was a loud splintering sound and it snapped in two, "I know what yeh're like abou' Triphorm, Kiara, an' I don' want yeh ter go readin' more inter this than there is."

Before I could respond a wheezy "Oho!" sounded behind us. We turned round and saw Douglas Match standing at the end of the corridor, hunchbacked, his jowls aquiver.

"Out of bed so late, Pride-Lander, this'll mean detention for you!"

"No it won', Match," said Mina shortly. "She's with me, isn' she?"

"And what difference does that make?" asked Match obnoxiously.

"I'm a ruddy teacher, aren' I, yeh sneakin' Squib?" said Mina, firing up at once.

There was a nasty hissing noise as Match swelled with fury; Mrs Robbs had arrived, unseen, and was twisting herself sinuously around Match's skinny ankles.

"Get goin'," said Mina out of the corner of her mouth.

I did not need telling twice; I hurried off, Mina and Match's raised voices echoing behind me as I ran. I passed Weeves near the turning into Lion-Heart Tower, but she was streaking happily towards the source of the yelling, cackling and calling,

 _"When there's strife and when there's trouble,_

 _Call on Weevsie, she'll make double!"_

The Fat Lord was sleeping and was not pleased to be woken up, but swung forwards grumpily to allow me to clamber into the mercifully peaceful and empty common room. I knew that people had heard Sian saying that Chrissie had been poisoned, but seeing the lateness of the hour, they might have assumed that none of us would be coming back from the hospital wing until the following morning, and therefore had decided to get to bed; I was very relieved, for I had been interrogated enough that day, and all I wanted was to be left alone with my thoughts, so I took a seat beside the fire and looked down into the dying embers.

So Crighton had argued with Triphorm. In spite of all that she had told me, in spite of her insistence that she trusted Triphorm completely, she had lost her temper with her ... she did not think that Triphorm had tried hard enough to investigate the Snake-Eyes ... or, perhaps, to investigate a single Snake-Eye: Malty?

Was it because Crighton did not want me to do anything foolish, to take matters into my own hands, that she had pretended there was nothing in my suspicions? That seemed likely. It might have been that Crighton did not want anything to distract me from our lessons, or from procuring that memory from Beadu. Perhaps Crighton did not think it right to confide her suspicions about her staff to sixteen-year-olds ...

"There you are, Pride-Lander!"

I jumped to my feet in shock, my wand at the ready. I had been quite convinced that the common room was empty; I had not been at all prepared for a hulking figure to rise, suddenly, out of a distant chair. A closer look showed me that it was Conrad MacGuire.

"I've been waiting for you to come back," said MacGuire, disregarding my drawn wand. "Must've fallen asleep. Look, I saw them taking Dawson up to the hospital wing earlier. Doesn't look like she'll be fit for next week's match."

It took me a few moments to realise what MacGuire was talking about.

"Oh ... right ... Quidditch," I said, putting my wand back into the belt of my jeans and running a hand wearily through my hair. "Yeah ... she might not make it."

"Well, then, I'll be playing Keeper, won't I?" said MacGuire.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I suppose so ..."

I could not think of an argument against it: after all, MacGuire had certainly performed second best in the trials.

"Excellent," said MacGuire in a satisfied voice. "So when's practice?"

"What? Oh ... there's one tomorrow evening."

"Good. Listen, Pride-Lander, we should have a talk beforehand. I've got some ideas on strategy you might find useful."

"Right," I said unenthusiastically. "Well, I'll hear them tomorrow, then. I'm pretty tired now ... see you ..."

The news that Chrissie had been poisoned spread quickly next day, but it did not cause the sensation that Keith's attack had done. People seemed to think that it might have been an accident, given that she had been in the Potion mistress' room at the time, and that as she had been give an antidote immediately there was no real harm done. In fact, the Lion-Hearts were generally much more interested in the upcoming Quidditch match against Badger-Stripes, for many of them wanted to see Zhi Smith, who played Chaser on the Badger-Stripes team, punished soundly for her commentary during the opening match against Snake-Eyes.

I, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; I was rapidly becoming obsessed with Dani Malty. Still checking the Scallywag's Map whenever I got a chance, I sometimes made detours to wherever Malty happened to be, but I had not yet detected her doing anything out of the ordinary. And still there were those inexplicable times when Malty simply vanished from the Map ...

But I did not get a lot of time to consider the problem, what with Quidditch practice, homework, and the fact that I was now being dogged wherever I went by Conrad MacGuire and Larry Brown.

I could not - and still can't - decide which of them was more annoying. MacGuire kept up a constant stream of hints that he would make a better permanent Keeper for the team than Chrissie, and that now I was seeing him play regularly I would sure come around to this way of thinking, too; he was also keen to criticise the other players and provide me with detailed training schemes, so that more than once I was forced to remind him who was Captain.

Meanwhile, Larry kept sidling up to me to discuss Chrissie, which I found almost more wearing than MacGuire's Quidditch lectures. At first, Larry had been very annoyed that nobody ha thought to tell him that Chrissie was in the hospital wing - "I mean, I am his boyfriend!" - but unfortunately he had now decided to forgive me this lapse of memory and was keen to have lots of in-depth chats with me about Chrissie's feelings, a most uncomfortable experience that I would have happily foregone.

"Look, why don't you talk to Chrissie about all this?" I asked, after a particularly long interrogation from Larry that took in everything from precisely what Chrissie had said about his taste in music to whether or not I thought that Chrissie considered her relationship with Larry to be 'serious'.

"Well, I would, but she's always asleep when I go and see her!" said Larry fretfully.

"Is she?" I said, surprised, for I had found Chrissie perfectly alert every time I had been up to the hospital wing, both highly interested in the news of Crighton and Triphorm's row and keen to abuse MacGuire as much as possible.

"Is that older sister of hers, Sian, still visiting her?" Larry demanded suddenly.

"Yeah, I think so. Well, they're sisters, aren't they?" I said uncomfortably.

"Sisters, don't make me laugh," said Larry scornfully. "She didn't talk to Chrissie for weeks after she started going out with me! But I suppose she wants to make up with her now she's all _interesting_ ..."

"Would you call being poisoned interesting?" I asked. "Besides, they're sisters, and yes, I know that they haven't been acting like sisters lately, but I'm sure that all sisters fall out over things at some point or other. And I'm sorry, but if you can't get along with Sian, Larry, then I think your relationship with Chrissie is - sorry, got to go - there's MacGuire coming to talk about Quidditch," I said hurriedly, and I dashed sideways through a door pretending to be solid wall and sprinted down the shortcut that would take me off to Potions where, thankfully, neither Larry nor MacGuire could follow me.

Now during this time, I had found the time to write to my parents once again, although how I found the time to do so, I don't know. But I did, and this is that letter.

 _Dear Daddy and Mum,_

 _I hope your both all right, especially Mum after that long night of labour. I got your letter and I love that picture you sent me of Kion. He's so cute. I love him. I've already gotten compliments off people about him, and many people have asked me to send you their congratulations, Professors Darbus and Beadu included. I can't wait to meet him, either. How are you both handling him, anyway? Is he keeping you up all night? Is he giving you the run around each and every day? Please tell me as much as you can in your next letter._

 _Well not much has happened here, except that Chrissie got poisoned, but you probably knew that from Crighton, didn't you? but if you haven't heard, I have to tell you now that she's all right, for I saved her by putting a bezoar down her throat. She's in hospital for the time being, but hopefully she'll be out in a couple of days. The only problem now is that I've got two people on my case all the time: Larry Brown, Chrissie's boyfriend, who wants to talk to me about nothing but Chrissie, and Conrad MacGuire, who has to replace Chrissie as Keeper for the time being, but he's a right piece of work; he keeps trying to take over all our positions on the pitch, thinking he can do all our jobs better than we can. I can't tell you the amount of times I've had to remind him who's the Captain. Honestly, I think his ego's about the size of the Quidditch pitch. I can't wait to have Chrissie back as Keeper, and I think the rest of the team feel the same way._

 _Well, I've got to go. Give my love to Kion for me._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Your daughter - and sister,_

 _Kiara_

On the morning of the Quidditch match against Badger-Stripes I dropped in on the hospital wing before heading down to the pitch. Chrissie was very agitated; Matron would not let her go down to watch the match, feeling it would overexcite her.

"So how's MacGuire shaping up?" she asked me nervously, apparently forgetting that she had already asked the same question twice.

"I've told you," I said patiently, "he could be world class and I wouldn't want to keep him. He keeps trying to tell everyone what to do, he thinks he could play every position better than the rest of us. I can't wait to be shot of him. And speaking of getting shot of people," I added, getting to my feet and picking up my Firecracker, "will you stop pretending to be asleep when Larry comes to see you? He's driving me mad as well."

"Oh," said Chrissie, looking sheepish. "Yeah. All right."

"If you don't want to go out with him any more, just tell him," I said.

"Yeah ... well ... it's not that easy, is it?" said Chrissie. She paused. "Are Sian and Ben going to look in before the match?" she added casually.

"No, they've already gone down to the pitch with Chris."

"Oh," said Chrissie, looking rather glum. "Right. Well, good luck. Hope you hammer Mac- I mean, Smith."

"I'll try," I said, shouldering my broom. "See you after the match."

I hurried down through the deserted corridors; the whole school was outside, either already seated in the stadium or heading down towards it. I was looking out of the windows as I passed, trying to gauge how much wind we were facing, when a noise ahead of me made me glance up and I saw Malty, walking towards me, accompanied by two boys, both of whom looked sulky and resentful.

Malty stopped short at the sight of me, then gave me a short, humourless laugh and continued walking.

"Where're you going?" I demanded.

"Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Pride-Lander," sneered Malty. "You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for the Chosen Captain - the Girl Who Scored - whatever they call you these days."

One of the boys gave an unwilling chuckle. I stared at him. He flushed. Malty pushed past me and she and her two friends followed at a trot, turning the corner and vanishing from view.

I stood rooted on the spot and watched them disappear. This was infuriating; I was already cutting it fine to get to the match on time and yet there was Malty, skulking off while the rest of the school was absent: my best chance yet of discovering what Malty was up to. The silent seconds trickled past, and I remained where I was, frozen, gazing at the place where Malty had vanished ...

"Where have you been?" demanded Chris, as I sprinted into the changing room. The whole team was changed and ready; Cartwright and Peet, the Beaters, were both hitting their clubs nervously against their legs.

"I met Malty," I told him quietly, as I pulled my scarlet robes over my head.

"So?"

"So I wanted to know how come she's up at the castle with a couple of boyfriends while everyone else is down here ..."

"Does it matter right now?"

"Well, I'm not likely to find out, am I?" I said, seizing my Firecracker. "Come on, then!"

And without another word, I marched out on to the pitch to deafening cheers and boos. There was little wind; the clouds were patchy; every now and then there were dazzling flashes of bright sunlight.

"Tricky conditions!" MacGuire said bracingly to my team. "Cartwright, Peet, you'll want to fly out of the sun, so they don't see you coming - "

"I'm the Captain, MacGuire, shut up giving them instructions," I said angrily. "Just get up by the goalposts!"

Once MacGuire had marched off, I turned to Cartwright and Peet.

"Make sure you _do_ fly out of the sun," I told them grudgingly.

I shook hands with the Badger-Stripes Captain, and then, on Sir Turner's whistle, I kicked off and rose into the air, higher than the rest of my team, streaking around the pitch in search of the Snitch. If I could catch it good and early, there might be a chance I could get back up to the castle, seize the Scallywag's Map and find out what Malty was doing ...

"And that's Smith of Badger-Stripes with the Quaffle," said a dreamy voice, echoing over the grounds. "She did the commentary last time, of course, and Chris Rickers flew into her, I think probably on purpose - it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Lion-Heart, I expect she regrets it now she's playing them - oh, look, she's lost the Quaffle, Chris took it from her, I do like him, he's very nice ..."

I looked down at the commentator's podium. Surely, I thought, nobody in their right mind would have let Lincoln Lovedream commentate. But even from above there was no mistaking that short dirt-blond hair, or the necklace of Butterbeer corks ... Beside Lincoln, Professor Darbus was looking slightly uncomfortable, as though she was indeed having second thoughts about this appointment ...

" ... but now that big Badger-Stripes player's got the Quaffle from him, I can't remember her name. It's something like Blabber - no, Buggles - "

"It's Clearwater!" said Professor Darbus loudly from beside Lincoln. The crowd laughed.

I stared around for the Snitch; there was no sign of it. Moments later, Clearwater scored. MacGuire had been shouting criticism at Chris for allowing the Quaffle out of his possession, with the result that he had not noticed the large red ball soaring past his right ear.

"MacGuire, will you pay attention to what you're supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!" I bellowed, wheeling round to face my Keeper.

"You're not setting a great example!" MacGuire shouted back, red-faced and furious.

"And Kiara Pride-Lander's now having an argument with her Keeper," said Lincoln serenely, while both Badger-Stripes and Snake-Eyes below in the crowd cheered and jeered. "I don't think that'll help her find the Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse ..."

Muttering angrily under my breath, I spun round and set off around the pitch again, scanning the skies for some sign of the tiny winged golden ball.

Chris and Danny scored a goal apiece, giving the red-and-gold-clad supporters below something to cheer about. Then Clearwater scored again, making things level, but Lincoln did not seem to have noticed; he appeared singularly uninterested in such mundane things as the score, and kept attempting to draw the crowd's attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that Zhi Smith, who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called 'Loser's Lurgy'.

"Seventy - forty to Badger Stripes!" barked Professor Darbus into Lincoln's megaphone.

"Is it, already?" said Lincoln vaguely. "Oh, look! The Lion-Heart Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."

I spun round in mid-air. MacGuire, for reasons best known to himself, had pulled Peet's bat from her hand and appeared to be demonstrating how to hit a Bludger towards an oncoming Clearwater.

 _"Will you give her back her bat and get back to the goalposts!"_ I roared, pelting towards MacGuire just as MacGuire took a ferocious swipe at a Bludger and mis-hit it.

I felt a blinding, sickening pain ... saw a flash of light ... heard distant screams ... and then I felt the sensation of falling down a long tunnel ...

And the next thing I knew, I was laying in a remarkably warm and comfortable bed and looking up at a lamp that was throwing a circle of golden light on to a shadowy ceiling. I raised my head awkwardly. There on my left was a familiar-looking, freckly, brown-haired person.

"Nice of you to drop in," said Chrissie, grinning.

I blinked and looked around. Of course: I was in the hospital wing. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. The match must have finished hours ago ... as had any hope of cornering Malty. My head felt strangely heavy; I raised a hand and I felt a stiff turban of bandages.

"What happened?"

"Cracked skull," said Matron, bustling up and pushing me back against my pillows. "Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I'm keeping you in overnight. You shouldn't overexert yourself for a few hours."

"I don't want to stay here overnight," I said angrily, sitting up and throwing back my covers, "I want to find MacGuire and kill him."

"I'm afraid that would come under the heading of 'overexertion'," said Matron, pushing me firmly back on to the bed and raising her wand in a threatening manner. "You will stay here until I discharge you, Pride-Lander, or I shall call the Headmistress."

She bustled back into her office and I sank back into my pillows, fuming.

"D'you know how much we lost by?" I asked Chrissie through clenched teeth.

"Well, yeah, I do," said Chrissie apologetically. "Final score was three hundred and twenty to sixty."

"Brilliant," I said savagely. "Really brilliant! When I get hold of MacGuire - "

"You don't want to get hold of him, he's the size of a troll," said Chrissie reasonably. "Personally I think there's a lot to be said for hexing him with that toenail things of the Princess'. Anyway, the rest of the team might've dealt with him before you get out of here, they're not happy ..."

There was a note of badly suppressed glee in Chrissie's voice; I could tell that she was nothing short of thrilled that MacGuire had messed up so badly. I lay there, staring up at the patch of light on the ceiling, my recently mended skull not hurting, precisely, but feeling slightly tender underneath all the bandaging.

"I could hear the match commentary from here," said Chrissie, her voice now shaking with laughter. "I hope Lincoln commentates from now on ... _Loser's Lurgy_ ..."

But I was still too angry to see much humour in the situation, and after a while Chrissie's giggles subsided.

"Chris came in to visit while you were unconscious," she said, after a long pause, and my imagination zoomed into overdrive, rapidly constructing a scene in which Chris, holding my hand and bent over my lifeless form confessed his feelings of deep attraction to me while Chrissie gave us her blessing ... "He reckons you only just arrived in time for the match. How come? You left here early enough."

"Oh ..." I said, as the scene in my mind's eye imploded. "Yeah ... well, I saw Malty sneaking off with a couple of boys who didn't look like they wanted to be with her, and that's the second time she's made sure she isn't down on the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school. She skipped the last match too, remember?" I sighed. "Wished I'd followed her now, the match was such a fiasco ..."

"Don't be stupid," said Chrissie sharply. "You couldn't have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malty, you're the Captain!"

"I want to know what she's up to," I said. "And don't tell me it's all in my head, not after what I overheard between her and Triphorm - "

"I never said it was all in your head," said Chrissie, hoisting herself up on an elbow in turn and frowning at me, "but there's no rule saying only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place! You're getting a bit obsessed with Malty, Kiara. I mean, thinking about missing a match just to follow her ..."

"I want to catch her at it!" I said in frustration. "I mean, where's she going when she disappears off the Map?"

"I dunno ... Dragsmeade?" suggested Chrissie, yawning.

"I've never seen her going along any of the secret passageways on the Map. I thought they were being watched now, anyway?"

"Well, then, I dunno," said Chrissie.

Silence fell between us. I stared up at the circle of lamplight above me, thinking ...

I wished that I had Rowena Scrimwazz's power, for then I would have been able to set a trail upon Malty, but unfortunately I did not have an office full of Aurors at my command ... I then thought fleetingly of trying to set something up with the CA, but there again was the problem that people would be missed from lessons; most of them, after all, still had full timetables ...

There was a low, rumbling snore from Chrissie's bed. After a while, Matron came out of her office, this time wearing a thick dressing-gown. It was easiest to feign sleep; I rolled over on to my side and listened to all the curtains closing themselves as she waved her wand. The lamps dimmed, and she returned to her office; I heard the door click behind her, and I knew that she was off to bed.

This was, I reflected in the darkness, the third time that I had been brought to the hospital wing because of a Quidditch injury. Last time I had fallen off my broomstick due to the presence of the Stingers around the pitch, and the time before that, all the bones had been removed from my arm by an incurably inept Professor Gold ... that had been my most painful injury by far ... I remembered the agony of regrowing an armful of bones in one night, a discomfort not eased by the arrival of an unexpected visitor in the middle of the -

I sat bolt upright, my heard pounding, my bandage turban askew. I had the solution at last: there _was_ a way to have Malty followed - how could I have forgotten, why hadn't I thought of it before?

But the question was, how to call her? What did you do?

Quietly, tentatively, I spoke into the darkness.

"Kleaner?"

There was a very loud _crack_ and the sound of scuffling and squeals filled the silent room. Chrissie awoke with a yelp.

"What's going - ?"

I pointed my wand hastily at the door of Matron's office and muttered _"Muffliato!"_ so that she would not come running. I then scrambled to the end of my bed for a better look at what was going on.

Two house-elves were rolling around on the floor in the middle of the dormitory, one wearing a multi-coloured shrunken jumper and several woolly hats, the other, a filthy old pair of rags thrown over her top and bottom. Then there was another loud bang, and Weeves the poltergeist appeared in mid-air above the wrestling elves.

"I was watching that, Pridey!" she told me indignantly, pointing at the fight below, before letting out a loud cackle. "Look at the ickle creatures squabbling, bitey bitey, punchy punchy - "

"Kleaner will not insult Kiara Pride-Lander in front of Dokey, no she won't, or Dokey will shut Kleaner's mouth for her!" cried Dokey in a high-pitched voice.

" - kicky, scratchy!" cried Weeves happily, now pelting bits of chalk at the elves to enrage them further. "Tweaky, pokey!"

"Kleaner will say what she likes about her young mistress, oh yes, and what a mistress she is, filthy friend of Sackbrains and Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kleaner's Mistress say - "

Exactly what Kleaner's mistress would have said we did not find out, for at that moment Dokey sank her knobbly little fist into Kleaner's mouth and knocked out several of her teeth. Chrissie and I both leapt out of our beds and wrenched the two elves apart, though they continued to try and kick and punch each other, egged on by Weeves, who swooped around the lamp squealing, "Stick your fingers up her nosey, draw her cork and pull her earsies - "

I aimed my wand at Weeves and said, _"Langlock!"_ Weeves clutched at her throat, gulped, and then swooped from the room making obscene gestures but unable to speak, owing to the fact that her tongue had just glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

"Nice one," said Chrissie appreciatively, lifting Dokey into the air so that her flailing limbs no longer made contact with Kleaner. "That was another Princess hex, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," I said, twisting Kleaner's wizened arm into a half-nelson. "Right - I'm forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kleaner, you're forbidden to fight Dokey. Dokey, I know I'm not allowed to give you orders - "

"Dokey is a free house-elf and she can obey anyone she likes and Dokey will do whatever Kiara Pride-Lander wants her to do!" said Dokey, tears now streaming down her shrivelled little face on to her jumper.

"OK, then," I said, and Chrissie and I released the elves, who fell to the floor, but did not continue fighting.

"Young mistress called me?" croaked Kleaner, sinking into a curtsey, even as she gave me a look that plainly wished me a painful death.

"Yeah, I did," I said, glancing towards Matron's office door to check that the _Muffliato_ spell was still working; there was no sign that she had heard any of the commotion. "I've got a job for you."

"Kleaner will do whatever young Mistress wants," said Kleaner, sinking so low that her lips almost touched her gnarled toes, "because Kleaner has no choice, but Kleaner is ashamed to have such a Mistress, yes - "

"Dokey will do it, Kiara Pride-Lander!" squeaked Dokey, her tennis-ball-sized eyes still swimming with tears. "Dokey would be honoured to help Kiara Pride-Lander!"

"Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of you," I said. "Ok, then ... I want you to tail Dani Malty."

Ignoring the look of mingled surprise and exasperation on Chrissie's face, I went on, "I want to know where she's going, who she's meeting and what she's doing. I want you to follow her around the clock."

"Yes, Kiara Pride-Lander!" said Dokey at once, her great eyes shining with excitement. "And if Dokey does it wrong, Dokey will throw herself off the topmost tower, Kiara Pride-Lander!"

"There won't be any need for that," I said hastily.

"Mistress wants me to follow the youngest of the Malty's?" croaked Kleaner. "Young Mistress wants me to spy upon the pure-blood great-niece of my old mistress?"

"That's the one," I said, foreseeing a great danger and determining to prevent it immediately. "And you're forbidden to tip her off, Kleaner, or to show her what you're up to, or to talk to her at all, or to write her messages, or ... or to contact her in any way. Got it?"

I thought I could see Kleaner struggling to see a loophole in the instructions she had just been given, and I waited. After a moment or two, and to my great satisfaction, Kleaner curtseyed deeply and said, with bitter resentment, "Young Mistress thinks of everything and Kleaner must obey her even though Kleaner would much rather be the servant of the Malty girl, oh yes ..."

"That's settled, then," I said. "I'll want regular reports, but make sure I'm not surrounded by people when you turn up. Chris, Sian and Chrissie are OK. And don't tell anyone what you're doing. Just stick to Malty like a couple of wart plasters."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

 **Lady Zira's Request**

 **KIARA**

Chrissie and I left the hospital wing first thing on Monday morning, restored to full health by the ministrations of Matron and we were both able to enjoy the benefits of having been knocked out and poisoned, the best of which was that Sian and Chris were both friends with Chrissie again. Sian and Chris even escorted us down to breakfast, bringing with them the news that Chris had argued with Dena. My heart suddenly began to feel hopeful, though I tried to keep my face calm and impassive.

"What did you row about, Chris, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as we turned into a seventh-floor corridor which was deserted but for a very small boy who had been examining a tapestry of trolls in tutus. He looked terrified at the sight of us sixth-years approaching and dropped the heavy brass scales he was carrying.

"It's all right!" said Sian kindly, hurrying forwards to help him. "Here .." She tapped the broken scales with her wand and said, _"Reparo."_

The boy did not say thank you, but remained rooted to the spot as we passed and watched us out of sight; Chrissie glanced back at him.

"I swear they're getting smaller," she said.

"Never mind him," I said, a little impatiently. "What did you and Dena row about, Chris?"

"Oh, Dena was laughing about MacGuire hitting that Bludger at you," said Chris.

"It must've looked funny," said Chrissie reasonably.

"No, it didn't!" said Chris hotly, as Sian glared at Chrissie. "It looked terrible, and if Cartwright and Peet hadn't caught Kiara she could have been very badly hurt! I also told Dena to remember that you, Kiara, are our Captain, and that she should be respectful if she wants to keep her place on the team!"

I turned to Chris, surprised, for no one had stood up for me like that before. "You said that? Really?"

"Of course I did, Kiara," said Chris gently. "You're too important to the team for us to lose you, you know."

I felt gratitude towards Chris for standing up for me like that, and my heart was beating so fast at his kindness that I was afraid he would hear it. As soon as my hear rate settled back to normal, I said, still trying to sound casual, "Yeah, well, there was no need for you two to split up over it. Or are you still together?"

"Yes, we are - but why are you so interested in my relationship with Dena all of a sudden, Kiara?" asked Chris, giving me a sharp look.

"I just don't want my Quidditch team messed up again!" I said hastily, but Chris, as well as Sian, continued to look suspicious, and I was most relieved when a voice behind us called, "Kiara!", giving me an excuse to turn my back on them.

"Oh, hi, Lincoln!"

"I went to the hospital wing to find you," said Lincoln, rummaging in his bag. "But they said you'd left ..."

He thrust what appeared to be a green onion, a large spotted toadstool and a considerable amount of what looked like cat litter into Chrissie's hands, finally pulling out a rather grubby scroll of parchment that he handed to me.

" ... I've been told to give you this."

It was a small roll of parchment, which I recognised at once as another invitation to a lesson with Crighton.

"Tonight," I told Chris, Sian and Chrissie, once I had unrolled it.

"Nice commentary last match!" said Chrissie to Lincoln, as he took back the green onion, the toadstool and the cat litter. Lincoln smiled vaguely.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" he said. "Everyone says I was dreadful."

"No, I'm serious!" said Chrissie earnestly. "I can't remember enjoying commentary more! What is this, by the way?" she added, holding the onionlike object up to eye-level.

"Oh, it's a Gurdyroot," he said, stuffing the cat litter and the toadstool back into his bag. "You can keep it if you like, I've got a few of them. They're really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies."

And he walked away, leaving Chrissie chortling, still clutching the Gurdyroot.

"You know, he's grown on me, Lincoln," she said, as we set off again for the Great Hall. "I know he's nuts, but it's in a good - "

She stopped talking very suddenly. Larry Brown was standing at the foot of the marble staircase looking thunderous.

"Hi," said Chrissie nervously.

"C'mon," I muttered to Chris and Sian, and we sped past, though not before we had heard Larry say, "Why didn't you tell me you were getting out today? And why was _she_ with you?"

When Chris, Sian and I entered the Great Hall, we saw Dena, who looked up eagerly at Chris, but he just ignored her. I kept my face calm, but my insides felt like they were dancing for joy. I knew that he and Dena hadn't broken up, but I couldn't help how I felt.

Chrissie looked both sulky and annoyed when she appeared at breakfast half an hour later, and though she sat with Larry, I did not see them exchange a word all the time they were together. Sian, Ben and the rest of the Dawsons watched Chrissie and Larry with barely suppressed glee, which wasn't surprising as none of them had any belief in the relationship to begin with - Sian in particular, who was in such a good mood that day that that evening she consented to look over (in other words, finish writing) my Herbology essay, something she had been resolutely refusing to do up to that point, because she had known that I would then let Chrissie copy my work.

"Thanks a lot, Sian," I said, giving her a hasty pat on the back as I checked my watch and saw that it was nearly eight o'clock. "Listen, you might want to put those away for now, Sian, or we'll be late for your mother."

Sian looked up, looked at her watch, then quickly packed away her things and followed me out through the portrait hole and off to the lift that led to the Headmistress' office. The lift doors opened once Sian put the two tokens in the slot and it sped off immediately once she had mentioned our destination with us both inside it. We got off once the doors opened outside the door, which I knocked on just as a clock within chimed eight.

"Enter," called Crighton, but as I put a hand out to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor Crystals.

"Aha!" he cried, pointing dramatically at Sian and I as he blinked through his magnifying spectacles. "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from you office, Crighton!"

"My dear Cyril," said Crighton in a slightly exasperated voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Sian and Kiara do have an appointment and I really don't think there is any more to be said - "

"Very well," said Professor Crystals, in a deeply wounded voice. "If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it ... perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated ..."

He pushed past Sian and I and disappeared down the spiral staircase; we heard him stumble halfway down and I guessed that he had tripped over one of his trailing scarves.

"Please close the door and sit down, Kiara," said Crighton, sounding rather tired, as Sian ran over to embrace her.

I obeyed, noticing as I took my usual seat next to Sian in front of Crighton's desk that the Pensieve lay between us once more, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.

"Professor Crystals still isn't happy Fauna is teaching, then?" I asked.

"No," said Crighton. "Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask Fauna to return to the Forest, where she is now an outcast, nor can I ask Cyril Crystals to leave. Between ourselves, he has no idea of the danger he would be in outside the castle. He does not know - and I think it would be unwise to enlighten him - that he made the prophecy about you and Zira, Kiara, you see."

Crighton heaved a deep sigh, then said, "But never mind my staff problems. We have much more important matters to discuss. Firstly - have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson, Kiara?"

"Ah," I said, brought up short. What with Apparition lessons and Quidditch and Chrissie being poisoned and getting my skull cracked and my determination to find out what Dani Malty was up to, that I had almost forgotten about the memory Crighton had asked me to extract from Professor Beadu ... "Well, I asked Professor Beadu about it at the end of Potions, ma'am, but, er, she wouldn't give it to me."

There was a little silence.

"I see," said Crighton eventually, peering at me with those piercing, bright green eyes of hers and giving me the usual sensation that I was being X-rayed. "And you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?"

"Well," I stated, at a loss for what to say next. My single attempt to get hold of the memory suddenly seemed embarrassingly feeble. "Well ... the day Chrissie swallowed love potion by mistake I took her to Professor Beadu. I thought maybe if I got Professor Beadu in a good enough mood - "

"And did that work?" asked Crighton.

"Well, no, ma'am, because Chrissie got poisoned - "

" - which, naturally, made you forget all about trying to retrieve the memory; I would have expected nothing else, while your best friend was in danger. But once it became clear that my daughter was going to make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you. I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it."

A hot, prickly feeling of shame spread from the top of my head all the way down my body. Crighton had not raised her voice, she did not sound angry, but I would have preferred her to yell; this cold disappointment was worse than anything, which was not helped by Sian shaking her head slowly at me, her eyes narrowed.

"Ma'am," I said a little desperately, "it isn't that I wasn't bothered or anything, I've just had other - other things ..."

"Other things on your mind," Crighton finished the sentence for me. "I see."

Silence fell between us again, the most uncomfortable silence I have ever experienced with Crighton; it seemed to go on and on, punctuated only by the little grunting snores of the portrait of Amanda Dipper over Crighton's head. I remember feeling strangely diminished, as though I had shrunk a little since I had entered the room.

When I could stand it no longer I said, "Professor Crighton, I'm really sorry. I should have done more ... I should have realised you wouldn't have asked me to do it if it wasn't really important."

"Thank you for saying that, Kiara," said Crighton quietly. "May I hope, then, that you will give this matter high priority from now on? There will be little point our meeting tonight unless we have that memory."

"I'll do it, ma'am, I'll get the memory from her," I said earnestly.

"Then we shall say no more about it just now," said Crighton more kindly, "but continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was, Kiara?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly. "Zira killed her mother and her grandparents and made it look as though her aunt Makasha did it. Then she went back to Dragon Mort and she asked ... she asked Professor Beadu about Horcruxes," I mumbled shamefacedly.

"Very good," said Crighton. "Now, you girls will both remember, I hope, that I told you both at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we wold be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"

Sian and I answered at the same time.

"Yes, Ma."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thus far, as I hope you both agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Zira did until the age of seventeen?"

Sian and I nodded.

"But now, Sian, Kiara," said Crighton, "now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the girl Maliay, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the woman Zira. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from herself, who could give us a full account of her life since she left Dragon Mort. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you both." Crighton indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensieve. "I shall be glad of your opinions as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."

The idea that Crighton valued my opinion this highly made me feel even more deeply ashamed that I had failed in the task of retrieving the Horcrux memory, and I shifted guiltily in my seat as Crighton raised the first of the two bottles to the light and examined it.

"I hope you girls are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two," she said. "This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hiccough. Before we see what Hiccough witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lady Zira left Dragon Mort.

"She reached the seventh year of her schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination she had taken. All around her, her classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Dragon Mort. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Dizra Maliay, Prefect, Head Girl, winner of the Special Award for Services to the School. I knew that several teachers, Professor Beadu amongst them, suggested that she join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put her in touch with useful contacts. She refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, she was working at Borgin and Burkes."

"At Borgin and Burkes?" I repeated, sounding as stunned as Sian looked.

"At Borgin and Burkes," repeated Crighton calmly. "I think you will see what attraction the place held for her when we have entered Hiccough's memory. But this was not Zira's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time - I was one of the few whom the then Headmistress confided - but Zira first approached Professor Dipper and asked whether she could remain at Dragon Mort as a teacher."

"She wanted to stay here? Why?" I asked, more amazed still.

"I believe she had several reasons, though she confided none of them to Professor Dipper," said Crighton. "Firstly, and very importantly, Zira was, I believe, more attached to this school than she has ever been to a person. Dragon Mort was where she had been happiest; the first and only place she had felt at home."

I understood where Zira was coming from, in a way - yes, I was happy at Dragon Mort and I had a home there, but I also had a happy home with my grandmothers, so I couldn't complain.

"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Zira had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but she may have felt that there were still more mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap.

"And thirdly, as a teacher, she would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps she had gained the idea from Professor Beadu, the teacher with whom she was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential the role of a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Zira envisaged spending the rest of her life at Dragon Mort, but I do think that she saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where she might begin to build herself an army."

"But she didn't get the job, did she, Ma?" said Sian, sounding uneasy at the thought of Zira teaching at the place we both loved so much.

"No, she did not. Professor Dipper told her that she was too young at eighteen, but invited her to reapply in a few years, if she still wished to teach."

"How did you feel about that, ma'am?" I asked hesitantly.

"Deeply uneasy," said Crighton. "I had advised Amanda against the appointment - I did not give the reasons I have given you two, for Professor Dipper was very fond of Zira and convinced of her honesty - but I did not want Lady Zira back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."

"What job did she want, ma'am? What subject did she want to teach?"

Somehow, I knew the answer even before Crighton gave it.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galen Cheery-Mind, who had been at Dragon Mort for nearly fifty years ...

"So Zira went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired her said what a waste it was, a brilliant young witch like that, working in a shop. However, Zira was no mere assistant. Polite and beautiful and clever, she was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specialises, as you girls know, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Zira was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and she was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"I bet she was," I said, unable to contain myself.

"Well, quite," said Crighton, with a faint smile. "And now it is time to hear from Hiccough the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich wizard by the name of Harta Smith."

Crighton tapped a bottle with her wand, the cork flew out and she tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve, saying as she did so, "After you, girls."

Sian and I got to our feet and we bent once more over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin until our faces touched them. We tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of an immensely fat old man wearing a black toupee with a centre parting, a velvet smoking jacket and a monocle that had diamonds along the chain. He was looking into a small mirror as he fixed his toupee on straight, while the tiniest and oldest house-elf I have ever seen laced his fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.

"Hurry up, Hiccough!" said Harta imperiously. "She said she'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and she's never been late yet!"

He stopped messing with his toupee as the house-elf straightened up. The top of the elf's head barely reached the seat of Harta's chair and his papery skin hung off his frame just like the crisp linen sheet he wore draped like a toga.

"How do I look?" said Harta, turning his head to admire the various angles of his face in the mirror.

"Dashing, sir," squeaked Hiccough.

I could only assume that it was down in Hiccough's contract that he must lie through his teeth when asked this question, because Harta Smith looked a long way from dashing in my opinion.

A tinkling doorbell rang and both master and elf jumped.

"Quick, quick, she's here, Hiccough!" cried Harta and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things: there were cabinets full of lacquered boxes, cases full of glass-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes and many flourishing pot plants in brass containers: in fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.

The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young woman I had no difficulty whatsoever in recognising as Zira. She was plainly dressed in a black skirt suit; her golden hair was tied back in a high bun and her cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited her: she looked more beautiful than ever. She picked her way through the cramped room with an air that showed she had visited many times before and offered Harta her hand, placing it in Harta's pudgy one. I saw a look of revulsion pass over Zira's face as Harta bent over her hand, but as soon as he looked up again it had gone.

"I brought you the chocolates you like," she said quietly, producing a box of chocolates from nowhere.

"You naughty girl, you shouldn't have!" smirked old Harta, smacking Zira's arm playfully. "You do spoil this old man, Dizra ... sit down, sit down ... where's Hiccough ... ah ..."

The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which he set at his master's elbow.

"Help yourself, Dizra," said Harta, "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times ..."

Zira smiled mechanically and Harta simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" he asked, patting Zira's arm gently.

"Mr Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armour," said Zira. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair - "

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" said Harta, looking mockingly offended.

"I am ordered here because of them," said Zira quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, sir, who must do as she is told. Mr Burke wishes me to enquire - "

"Oh, Mr Burke, phooey!" said Harta, waving a large hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr Burke! Can you keep a secret, Dizra? Will you promise you won't tell Mr Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Dizra, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it ..."

"I'd be glad to see anything Mr Harta shows me," said Zira quietly, and Harta chuckled joyfully.

"I had Hiccough bring it out for me ... Hiccough, where are you? I want to show Miss Maliay our _finest_ treasure ... in fact, bring both, while you're at it ..."

"Here, sir," squeaked the house-elf, and I saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own volition, though I knew the tiny elf was holding them over his head as he wended his way between tables, pouffes and footstools.

"Now," said Harta happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in his lap and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Dizra ... oh, if my family knew I was showing you ... they can't wait to get their hands on this!"

He opened the lid. I edged forwards a little to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Dizra? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Harta, and Zira stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. I thought I saw a red gleam in her bright eyes. Her greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Harta's face, except that his tiny eyes were fixed upon Zira's beautiful features.

"A badger," murmured Zira, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was ...?"

"Bartholomew Badger-Stripes, as you very well know, you clever girl!" said Harta, leaning forwards with a loud creaking of wood and actually pinching her hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess, too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here ..."

He took the cup back off Zira's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Zira's face as the cup was taken away.

"Now then," said Harta happily, "where's Hiccough? Oh yes, there you are - take that away now, Hiccough - "

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Harta turned his attention to the much flatter box in his lap.

"I think you'll like this even more, Dizra," he whispered, "Lean in a little, dear girl, so you can see ... of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone ..."

He slid back the fine, filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy silver locket.

Zira reached out her hand without invitation this time and held it up to the light, staring at it.

"Snake-Eyes' mark," she said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" said Harta, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Zira gazing at his locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not for a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking man who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value - "

There was no mistaking it this time: Zira's eyes flashed scarlet at his words and I saw her knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.

" - I daresay Burke paid him a pittance, but there you are ... pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe ..."

He reached out to take the locket back. For a moment I thought Zira was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through her fingers and was back on its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Dizra, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

He looked her full in the face and, for the first time, I saw his foolish smile falter.

"Are you all right, child?"

"Oh yes," said Zira quietly. "Yes, I'm very well ..."

"I thought - but a trick of the light, I suppose - " said Harta, looking unnerved, and I guessed that he, too, had seen the momentary red gleam in Zira's eyes. "Here, Hiccough, take these away and lock them up again ... the usual enchantments ..."

"Time to leave, girls," said Crighton quietly, and as the little elf bobbed away bearing the boxes, Crighton stood between Sian and I and grasped us both once again above the elbow and the three of us rose up through oblivion and back to Crighton's office.

"Harta Smith died two days after that little scene," said Crighton, resuming her seat and indicating that Sian and I should both do the same. "Hiccough the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning his master's evening cocoa by accident."

"No way!" I said angrily.

"How could they?" Sian said furiously, her hands balling into fists.

"I see the three of us are of one mind," said Crighton. "Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Maliays. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, somebody who had a clear memory of having caused the death - "

"Hiccough confessed?" said Sian, shocked.

"He remembered putting something in his master's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," said Crighton. "It was concluded that he had not meant to do it, but being old and confused - "

"Zira modified his memory, just like she did with Makasha!" I said.

"Yes, that is my conclusion, too," said Crighton. "And, just as with Makasha, the Ministry were predisposed to suspect Hiccough - "

" - because he was a house-elf," I said. I had rarely felt more in sympathy with the society Sian had set up, H.A.M.E., something she was keen to speak out about once again.

"See, this is exactly why we need to do more for house-elves!" she exclaimed heatedly. "Their standing in society is what's keeping people from seeing them as individuals and not just slaves - "

"Sian, honey," Crighton interrupted her gently, "I would love to discuss elf rights with you right now, really I would, but we have another memory to get through, so could I ask you to put it out of your mind for the time being?"

Sian looked surprised at her mother's words for a moment, then sighed and said humbly, "Of course, Mother." Crighton smiled at her daughter gently before turning back to me.

"So yes, the Ministry suspected Hiccough because he was a house-elf," said Crighton. "He was old, he admitted to having tampered with the drink and nobody at the Ministry bothered to enquire further. As in the case of Makasha, by the time I traced him and managed to extract this memory, his life was almost over - but his memory, of course, proves nothing except that Zira knew of the existence of the cup and the locket.

"By the time Hiccough was convicted, Harta's family had realised that two of his greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for he had many hiding places, having always guarded his collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young woman who had visited Harta so regularly and charmed him so well, had resigned her post and vanished. Her superiors had no idea where she had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at her disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Dizra Maliay for a very long time.

"Now then, girls," said Crighton, "if you two don't mind, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Zira had committed another murder; whether it was her first since she had killed the Maliays, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you both will have seen, she killed not for revenge, but for gain. She wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted old man showed her. Just as she had once robbed the other children at the orphanage, just as she had stolen her aunt Makasha's ring, so she ran off now with Harta's cup and locket."

"But," I said, frowning, "it seems mad ... risking everything, throwing away her job, just for those ..."

"Mad to you, perhaps, but not to Zira," said Crighton. "I hope you will understand in due course exactly what those objects meant to her, Kiara, but you must admit that it is not difficult to imagine that she saw the locket, at least, as rightfully hers."

"The locket, maybe," I said, "but why take the cup as well?"

"It had belonged to another of Dragon Mort's founders," said Crighton. "I think she still felt a great pull towards the school and that she could not resist an object so steeped in Dragon Mort's history. There were other reasons, I think ... I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you both, in due course.

"And now for the very last recollection I have to show you both, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Beadu's memory for us, Kiara. Ten years separate Hiccough's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lady Zira was doing ..."

Sian and I got to our feet once more as Crighton emptied the memory into the Pensieve.

"Whose memory is it?" I asked.

"Mine," said Crighton.

And Sian and I both dived after Crighton through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office we had just left. There was Kenna, slumbering happily on her perch, and there, behind the desk, was Crighton, who looked very similar to the Crighton stood between Sian and I, though both hands were whole and undamaged and her face was, perhaps, a little less lined. There were two differences between the present-day office and this one: the first was that the drawings that Sian and Crighton's other children had sent her and the photographs of her family on her desk weren't there because they had not been born yet, and the second was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.

The younger Crighton seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after our arrival, there was a knock on the door and she said, "Enter."

I heard Sian let out a loud gasp at the same time I did when Zira entered the room, and I could not blame her for being shocked at Zira's appearance. Her features were not those I had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron in my fourth year; they were not as snakelike, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet she was no longer beautiful Dizra Maliay. It was as though her features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of her eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that I knew they would become. She was wearing a long black cloak and her face was as pale as the snow glistening on her shoulders.

The Crighton behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment.

"Good evening, Dizra," said Crighton easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Zira, and she took the seat to which Crighton had gestured - the very seat, by the looks of it, that I had just vacated in the present. "I heard that you had become Headmistress," she said, and her voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been; I felt Sian shudder beside me when she heard it. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve," said Crighton, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome," said Zira. "I have come a long way."

Crighton stood up and swept over to the cabinet where she now kept the Pensieve, but which was then full of bottles. Having handed Zira a goblet of wine and poured one for herself, she returned to the seat behind her desk.

"So, Dizra ... to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Zira did not answer at once, but merely sipped her wine.

"They do not call me 'Dizra' any more," she said. "These days, I am known as - "

"I know what you are known as," said Crighton, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Dizra Maliay. It is one of the things about old teachers, I am afraid, that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

She raised her glass as though toasting Zira, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, I felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Crighton's refusal to use Zira's chosen names was a refusal to allow Zira to dictate the terms of the meeting, and I could tell that Zira took it as such.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Zira after a short pause. "I always wondered why a witch such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well," said Crighton, still smiling, "to a witch such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching, too."

"I see it still," said Zira. "I merely wondered why you - who is so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who has twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister - "

"Three times at the last count, actually," said Crighton. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Zira inclined her head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Crighton did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Zira to talk first.

"I have returned," she said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dipper expected ... but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what she once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other witch."

Crighton considered Zira over the top of her own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," she said quietly. "Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Dizra. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Zira's face remained impassive as she said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Crighton."

"You call it 'greatness', what you have been doing, do you?" asked Crighton delicately.

"Certainly," said Zira, and her eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed - "

"Of some kinds of magic," Crighton corrected her quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain ... forgive me ... woefully ignorant."

For the first time, Zira smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage.

"The old argument," she said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Crighton."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," said Crighton.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Dragon Mort?" said Zira. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Crighton raised her eyebrows.

"And what will become of those whom _you_ command? What will happen to those who call themselves - or so rumour has it - the Love Destroyers?"

I could tell that Zira had not expected Crighton to know this name; I saw Zira's eyes flash red again and the slitlike nostrils flare.

"My friends," she said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Crighton. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," said Zira.

"Then if I were to go to the Dragon's Eye tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nechi, Rotchenberg, Murgia, Dali - awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

There was no doubt that Crighton's detailed knowledge of those with whom she was travelling was even less welcome to Zira; however, she rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Crighton."

"Oh, no, merely friendly with the local barmaid," said Crighton lightly. "Now, Dizra ..."

Crighton set down her empty glass and drew herself up in her seat, the tips of her fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.

" ... let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Zira looked coldly surprised.

"A job I do not want? On the contrary, Crighton, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Dragon Mort, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Dizra? Why not try an open request for once?"

Zira sneered.

"If you do not want to give me a job - "

"Of course I don't," said Crighton. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

Zira stood up. She looked less like Dizra Maliay than ever, her features thick with rage.

"This is your final word?"

"It is," said Crighton, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," said Crighton, and a great sadness filled her face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Dizra ... I wish I could ..."

For a second, I was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning: I was sure that Zira's hand had twitched towards her pocket and her wand; but then the moment had passed, Zira had turned away, the door was closing and she was gone.

Crighton's hands had closed over mine and Sian's arms again, and moments later, the three of us were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no snow on the window-ledge, there were drawings from Crighton's children on the wall and photographs of her family on the desk, and Crighton's hand was blackened and burned-looking once more.

"Why?" I said at once, looking up into Crighton's face. "Why did she come back? Did you ever find out?"

"I have ideas," said Crighton, "but no more than that."

"What ideas, ma'am?"

"I shall tell you, Kiara, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Beadu," said Crighton. "When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear ... to the three of us."

I was still burning with curiosity, and even though Crighton had walked to the door and was holding it open for me, I did not move at once.

"Was she after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job again, ma'am? She didn't say ..."

"Oh, she definitely wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job," said Crighton. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lady Zira."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

 **The Unplottable Room**

 **KIARA**

 _My dearest Kiara,_

 _Your mother, brother Kion and myself are all fine. Your brother is healthy and is giving your mother and I a fair few sleepless nights. We're sure it won't be long before he starts crawling now and then he'll start giving us the runaround, that we're both certain. He doesn't like going to bed at night, but he loves bath time, especially splashing us both with almost all the water from the sink, which is both a fun thing to experience, and yet can be a nightmare. We received a lot of compliments from many people, including Professors Darbus and Beadu, and a lot of baby gifts for him. So in short, your mother and I are currently tired but happy._

 _And on to a slightly more serious note, Crighton did write to us the day Chrissie got poisoned and told us what you did to save her. Your mother and I were both shocked to learn that she had been poisoned, yet we were pleased to know that you were there and are relieved to know that she is in the clear. Your mother and I are both proud of you, Kiara, for saving her. You'd be a terrible friend if you didn't do anything, and at least this time you aren't in danger yourself when it comes to saving a friend's life, even if there was a dangerous substance in the room at the time._

 _Well, I'm going to put my quill down because I really want to catch up on sleep, but before I do I've taken the liberty of putting more pictures of Kion in this envelope for you to look at._

 _Keep in touch. Your mother and I always want to hear from you._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Daddy, Mum and baby Kion_

I pulled out the pictures as soon as I read this, and as I looked through them, they were all really the same: Daddy and Mum holding him, Kion sleeping, or else Kion splashing about in the bath, which I could not help but laugh at. I showed Chris, Sian and Chrissie them, and they fawned over them as much as I did. I put them in my bedside table that night, thinking that as soon as I could I would get them framed.

And now, on with this chapter.

I racked my brains over the next week as to how I was to persuade Beadu to hand over the true memory, but nothing in the nature of a brainwave occurred and I was reduced to doing what I did increasingly in those days whenever I was at a loss: poring over my Potions book, hoping that the Princess would have scribbled something useful in a margin, as I had done so many times before.

"You won't find anything in there," said Sian firmly, late on Sunday evening.

"Don't start, Sian," I said. "If it hadn't been for the Princess, Chrissie wouldn't be sitting here now."

"She would if you'd just listen to Triphorm in our first year," said Sian dismissively.

I ignored her. I had just found an incantation _(Sectumsempra)_ scrawled in a margin above the intriguing words "For Enemies", and I was itching to try it out, but I thought I best not to in front of Sian. Instead, I surreptitiously folded down the corner of the page.

We were sitting beside the fire in the common room; the only people still up were fellow sixth-years. There had been a certain amount of excitement earlier when we had come back from dinner to find a new sign on the noticeboard that announced the first date for the Apparition test. Those who would be seventeen on or before the test date, the twenty-first of April, had the option of signing up for additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily supervised) in Dragsmeade.

Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were all disappointed on reading this, for we would all turn seventeen in July, but that did not put us at ease, oh no: Chrissie was panicking because she had not yet been able to Disapparate; Sian had managed to Apparate twice and was fairly confident about her chances; and Chris and I had only managed to Apparate during our previous lesson.

Chrissie had wasted so much time worrying aloud about Apparition that she was struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Triphorm that Chris, Sian and I had already completed. I fully expected to receive low marks on mine, because I had disagreed with Triphorm on the best way to tackle Stingers, but I did not care: Beadu's memory was the most important thing to me at that point.

"I'm telling you, the stupid Princess isn't going to be able to help you with this, Kiara!" said Sian more loudly. "There's only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that's the Imperius Curse, which is illegal - "

"Yeah, I know that, thanks," I said, not looking up from my book. "That's why I'm looking for something different. Crighton says Veritaserum won't do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell ..."

"You're going about it the wrong way," said Sian. "Ma says that only you can get the memory. That must mean you can persuade Beadu where other people can't. It's not a question of slipping her a potion, anyone could do that - "

"How do you spell 'belligerent'?" said Chrissie, shaking her quill very hard while staring at her parchment. "It can't be B - U - M - "

"No, it isn't," said Sian, pulling Chrissie's essay towards her. "And 'augury' doesn't begin O - R - G either. What kind of quill are you using?"

"It's one of Tanya and Geri's Spell-Checking ones ... but I think the charm must be wearing off ..."

"Yes, it must," said Sian, pointing at the title of her essay, "because we were asked how we'd deal with Stingers, not 'salamanders', and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Christy Daizin', either."

"Ah, no!" said Chrissie, staring horror-struck at the parchment. "Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again?"

"It's OK, we can fix it," said Sian, pulling the essay towards her and taking out her wand.

"I love you, Sian," said Chrissie, sinking back in her chair, rubbing her eyes wearily.

Chris snorted at this. Sian just rolled her eyes and said, "Don't let Larry hear you saying that."

"I won't," said Chrissie into her hands. "Or maybe I will ... then he'll ditch me ..."

"Why don't you ditch him if you want to finish it?" I asked.

"You haven't dumped anyone, have you?" said Chrissie. "You and Khan just - "

"Sort of fell apart, yeah," I said.

"Wish that would happen with me and Larry," said Chrissie gloomily, watching her sister tapping each of her misspelled words with the end of her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the page. "But the more I hint I want to finish it the tighter he holds on. It's like going out with the Giant Squid."

"There," said Sian, some twenty minutes later, handing back Chrissie's essay.

"Thanks a million," said Chrissie. "Can I borrow your quill for the conclusion?"

Seeing as I had found nothing useful in the Half-Blood Princess' notes so far, I looked around; the four of us were now the only ones left in the common room, Zara having just gone up to bed cursing Triphorm and her essay. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and Chrissie scratching out one last paragraph on Stingers using Sian's quill. I had just closed the Half-Blood Princess' book, yawning, when -

 _Crack._

Chris jumped in his seat; Sian let out a little shriek; Chrissie spilled ink all over her essay and I said, "Kleaner!"

The house-elf curtseyed low and addressed her own gnarled toes.

"Young Mistress said she wanted regular reports on what the Malty girl is doing so Kleaner has come to give - "

 _Crack._

Dokey appeared alongside Kleaner, her tea-cosy hat askew.

"Dokey has been helping too, Kiara Pride-Lander!" she squeaked, casting Kleaner a resentful look. "And Kleaner ought to tell Dokey when she is coming to see Kiara Pride-Lander so they can make their reports together!"

"What is this?" said Sian, still looking shocked by these sudden appearances. "What's going on, Kiara?"

I hesitated before answering, because I had not told Sian (or Chris) about setting Kleaner and Dokey to tail Malty; house-elves were always such a touchy subject with her.

"Well ... they've been following Malty for me," I said.

"Night and day," croaked Kleaner.

"Dokey has not slept for a week, Kiara Pride-Lander!" said Dokey proudly, swaying where she stood.

Sian looked indignant.

"You haven't slept, Dokey? But surely, Kiara, you didn't tell her not to - "

"No, of course I didn't," I said quickly. "Dokey, you can sleep, all right? But has either of you found out anything?" I hastened to ask, before Sian could intervene again.

"Mistress Malty moves with a nobility that befits her pure blood," croaked Kleaner at once. "Her features recall the fine bones of my master and her manners are those of - "

"Danielle Malty is a bad girl!" squeaked Dokey angrily. "A bad girl who - who - "

She shuddered from the tassel of her tea cosy to the toes of her socks and then ran at the fire, as though about to dive into it; this was not entirely unexpected to me, so I caught her around the middle and held her fast. For a few seconds Dokey struggled, then went limp.

"Thank you, Kiara Pride-Lander," she panted. "Dokey still finds it difficult to speak ill of her old masters ..."

I released her; Dokey straightened her tea cosy and said defiantly to Kleaner, "But Kleaner should know that Danielle Malty is not a good mistress to a house-elf!"

"Yeah, we don't need to hear about you being in love with Malty," I told Kleaner. "Let's fast forward to where she's actually been going."

Kleaner curtseyed again, looking furious, and then said, "Mistress Malty eats in the Great Hall, she sleeps in a dormitory in the dungeons, she attends her classes in a variety of - "

"Dokey, you tell me," I said, cutting across Kleaner. "Has she been going anywhere she shouldn't have?"

"Kiara Pride-Lander, miss," squeaked Dokey, her great orblike eyes shining in the firelight, "the Malty girl is breaking no rules that Dokey can discover, but she is still keen to avoid detection. She has been making regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of other students, who keep watch for her when she enters - "

" - the Room of Needs!" I said, smacking myself hard on the forehead with _Advanced Potion-Making_. Chris, Sian and Chrissie stared at me. "That's where she's been sneaking off to! That's where she's doing ... whatever she's doing! And I bet that's why she's been disappearing off the Map - come to think of it, I've never seen the Room of Needs on there!"

"Maybe the Scallywags never knew the Room was there," said Chris.

"I think it'll be part of the magic of the Room," said Sian. "If you need it to be unplottable, it will be."

"Dokey, have you managed to het in to have a look at what Malty's doing?" I said eagerly.

"No, Kiara Pride-Lander, that is impossible," said Dokey.

"No, it's not," I said at once. "Malty got into our Headquarters there last year, so I'll be able to get in and spy on her, no problem."

"But I don't think you will, Kiara," said Sian slowly. "Malty already knew how we were using the Room, didn't she, because that stupid Maurice had blabbed. She needed the room to become the Headquarters of the CA, so it did. But you don't know what the Room becomes when Malty goes in there, so you don't know what to ask it to transform into."

"There'll be a way around that," I said dismissively. "You've done brilliantly, Dokey."

"Kleaner's done well, too," said Sian kindly; but far from looking grateful, Kleaner averted her huge, bloodshot eyes and croaked to the ceiling, "The Sackbrain is speaking to Kleaner, Kleaner will pretend she cannot hear - "

"Get out of it," I snapped at her, and Kleaner made one last deep curtsey and Disapparated. You'd better go and get some sleep too, Dokey."

"Thank you, Kiara Pride-Lander, miss!" squeaked Dokey happily, and she, too, vanished.

"How good's this?" I said enthusiastically, turning to Chris, Sian and Chrissie the moment the room was elf-free again. "We know where Malty's going! We've got her cornered now!"

"Yeah, it's great," said Chrissie glumly, who was attempting to mop up the sodden mass of ink that had recently been an almost completed essay. Sian pulled it towards her and began siphoning off the ink with her wand.

"But what's all this about her going up there with a 'variety of students'?" said Sian. "How many people are in on it? You wouldn't think shed trust lots of them to know what she's doing ..."

"Yeah, that is weird," I said, frowning. "I heard her telling Crate it wasn't Crate's business what she was doing ... so what's she telling all these ... all these ..."

My voice trailed away; I was staring at the fire.

"God, I've been stupid," I said quietly. "It's obvious, isn't it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon ... she could've nicked some any time during that lesson ..."

"Nicked what, Kiara?" said Chris.

Ignoring the way his voice made my heart flutter for the time being, I said, "Polyjuice Potion. She stole some of the Polyjuice Potion Beadu showed us in our first Potions lesson ... there aren't a whole variety of students standing guard for Malty ... it's just Crate and Gabber as usual ... yeah, it all fits!" I said, jumping up and starting to pace in front of the fire. "They're stupid enough to do what they're told even if she won't tell them what she's up to ... but she doesn't want them to be seen lurking around outside the Room of Needs, so she's got them taking Polyjuice to look like other people ... those two boys I saw with her when she missed Quidditch - ha! Crate and Gabber!"

"Do you mean to say," said Sian in a hushed voice, "that that little boy whose scales I repaired - ?"

"Yeah, of course!" I said loudly, staring at her. "Of course! Malty must've been inside the Room at the time, so he - what am I talking about? - _she_ dropped the scales to tell Malty not to come out, because there was someone there! And there was that boy who dropped the toad-spawn, too! We've been walking past her all the time and not realising it!"

"She's got Crate and Gabber transforming into boys?" guffawed Chrissie. "Blimey ... no wonder they don't look too happy these days ... I'm surprised they don't tell her to stuff it ..."

"Well, they wouldn't, would they, if she's shown them her Death Trail," I said.

"Hmmm ... the Death Trail we don't know exists" said Sian sceptically, rolling up Chrissie's dried essay before it could come to any more harm and handing it to her.

"We'll see," I said confidently.

"Yes, we will," said Sian, getting to her feet and stretching. "But, Kiara, before you get all excited, I still don't think you'll be able to get into the Room of Needs without knowing what's there first. And I don't think you should forget," she heaved her bag on to her shoulder and gave me a very serious look, "that what you're _supposed_ to be concentrating on is getting that memory from Beadu. Goodnight."

I watched her go, feeling slightly disgruntled. Once the door to the girls' dormitories had closed behind her I rounded on Chris, who was watching me closely.

"What do you think?"

Chris looked at me sadly, shrugged and said, "I'm with Sian, Kiara. Sorry."

Annoyed by this reaction, I turned to Chrissie instead.

"And what do you think, Chrissie?"

"Wish I could Disapparate like a house-elf," said Chrissie, staring at the spot where Dokey had vanished. "I'd have that Apparition test in the bag."

I did not sleep well that night. I lay awake for what felt like hours, wondering how Malty was using the Room of Needs and what I would see when I went in there the following day, for whatever Sian said, I was sure that if Malty had been able to see the Headquarters of the CA, then surely that meant that I would be able to see Malty's ... what could it be? A meeting place? A storeroom? A workshop? My mind worked feverishly and my dreams, when I finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malty, who turned into Beadu, who turned into Triphorm ...

I was in a state of great anticipation over breakfast the following morning; I had a free period before Defence Against the Dark Arts and I was determined to spend it trying to get into the Room of Needs. Sian was rather ostentatiously showing no interest in my whispered plans for forcing entry into the Room, which irritated me, because I thought she might be a lot of help if she wanted to.

"Look," I said quietly, leaning forwards and putting a hand on the _Daily Squabbler_ , which she had just removed from a post owl, to stop her opening it and vanishing behind it. "I haven't forgotten about Beadu, but I haven't got a clue how to get that memory off her, and until I get a brainwave why shouldn't I find out what Malty's doing?"

"I've already told you, you need to _persuade_ Beadu," said Sian. "It's not a question of tricking her or bewitching her, or Ma could have done it in a second. Instead of messing around outside the Room of Needs," she jerked the _Squabbler_ out from under my hand and unfolded it to look at the front of the page, "you should go and find Beadu and start appealing to her better nature."

"Anyone we know - ?" asked Chrissie, as Sian scanned the headlines.

"Yes!" said Sian, causing Chris, Chrissie and I to gag on our breakfasts, "but it's all right, she's not dead - it's Mona, she's been arrested and sent to Azkaban! Something to do with impersonating an Inferius during an attempted burglary ... and someone called Octavia Sprint has vanished ... oh, and how horrible, a nine-year-old girl has been arrested for trying to kill her grandparents, they think she was under the Imperius Curse ..."

We finished our breakfast in silence. Sian set off immediately for Ancient Runes, Chris for Arithmancy, Chrissie for the common room, where she still had to finish her conclusion on Triphorm's Stinger essay, and I for the corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barbara the Barmy being clubbed by a gang of ogres.

I slipped on my Invisibility Cloak once I had found an empty passage, but I need not have bothered. When I reached my destination I found it deserted. I was not sure whether my chances of getting inside the Room were better with Malty inside it or out, but at least my first attempt was not going to be complicated by the presence of Crate of Gabber pretending to be an eleven-year-old boy.

I closed my eyes as I approached the place where the Room of Needs' door was concealed. I knew what I had to do; I had become accomplished at it during my fifth year. Concentrating with all my might I thought, _I need to see what Malty's doing in here_... _I need to see what Malty's doing in here_ ... _I need to see what Malty's doing in here_ ...

Three times I walked past the door, then, my hear pounding with excitement, I opened my eyes and faced it - but I was still looking at a stretch of mundanely blank wall.

I moved forwards and gave it an experimental push. The stone remained solid and unyielding.

"Ok," I said aloud. "OK ... I thought the wrong thing ..."

I pondered for a moment, then set off again, eyes closed, concentrating as hard as I could.

 _I need to see the place where Malty keeps coming secretly ... I need to see the place where Malty keeps coming secretly ..._

After three walks past, I opened my eyes expectantly.

There was no door.

"Oh, come off it," I told the wall irritably. "That was a clear instruction. Fine ..."

I thought hard for several minutes before striding off once more.

 _I need you to become the place you become for Danielle Malty ..._

I did not immediately open my eyes when I had finished my patrolling; I was listening hard, as though I might hear the door pop into existence. I heard nothing, however, except the distant twittering of birds outside. I opened my eyes.

There was still no door.

I swore. Someone screamed. I looked around to see a gaggle of first-years running back round the corner, apparently under the impression that they had just encountered a particularly foul-mouthed ghost.

I tried every variation of "I need to see what Danielle Malty is doing inside you" that I could think of for a whole hour, at the end of which I was forced to concede that Sian might have had a point: the Room simply did not want to open for me. Frustrated and annoyed, I set off for Defence Against the Dark Arts, pulling off my Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it into my bag as I went.

"Late again, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm coldly, as I hurried into the candlelit classroom. "Ten points from Lion-Heart."

I scowled at Triphorm as I flung myself into the seat beside Chrissie; half the class was still on its feet, taking out books and organising its things; I could not be much later than any of them.

"Before we start, I want your Stinger essays," said Triphorm, waving her wand carelessly, so that twenty-seven scrolls of parchment soared into the air and landed in a neat pile on her desk. "And I hope for your sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open you books at page - what is it, Miss Finn?"

"Ma'am," said Zara, "I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the _Squabbler_ about an Inferius - "

"No, there wasn't," said Triphorm in a bored voice.

"But ma'am, I heard people talking - "

"If you had actually read the article in question, Miss Finn, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak-thief by the name of Mona Fetch."

"I thought Triphorm and Mona were on the same side?" I muttered to Sian and Chrissie. "Shouldn't she be upset Mona has been arrest- "

"But Pride-Lander seems to have a lot to say on the subject," said Triphorm, pointing suddenly to where I was sat at the back of the room, her icy-blue eyes fixed on me. "Let us ask Pride-Lander how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost."

The whole class looked round at me, and I hastily tried to recall what Crighton had told me the night that we had gone to visit Beadu.

"Er - well - ghosts are transparent - " I said.

"Oh, very good," said Triphorm, her lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Pride-Lander. _Ghosts are transparent._ "

Parry Parker let his head fall back and let out a roar of laughter. Several other people were smirking. I took a deep breath and continued calmly, though my insides were burning, "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid - "

"A five-year-old could have told us as much," sneered Triphorm. "The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's building. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth ... and of course, as Pride-Lander so wisely tells us, _transparent_."

"Well, what Kiara said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" said Chrissie. "When we come face to face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a shufti to see if it's solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'"

There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Triphorm gave us.

"Another ten points from Lion-Heart," said Triphorm. "I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Christina Dawson, the girl so solid she cannot Apparate half an inch across a room."

 _"No!"_ whispered Sian, grabbing my arm as I opened my mouth furiously. "There's no point, you'll just end up in detention again, leave it!"

"Now open your books at page two hundred and thirteen," said Triphorm, smirking a little, "and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse ..."

Chrissie was very subdued all through the class. When the bell sounded at the end of the lesson, Larry caught up with Chrissie and I (Sian mysteriously melted out of sight as he appeared) and abused Triphorm hotly for her jibe about Chrissie's Apparition, but this seemed merely to irritate Chrissie, and she shook him off by making a detour into the girls' bathroom with me.

"Triphorm's right, though, isn't she?" said Chrissie, after staring into a cracked mirror for a minute or two. "I dunno whether it's worth me taking the test. I just can't get the hang of Apparition."

"Push it out of your mind for now, Chrissie," I said reasonably. "We only have to wait until summer, and then you, me, Chris and Sian can all take the test together - Moany, this is the girls' bathroom!"

The ghost of a boy had risen out of the toilet in a cubicle behind us and was now floating in mid-air, staring at us through thick, white, round glasses.

"Oh," he said glumly, "it's you two."

"Who were you expecting?" said Chrissie, looking at him in the mirror.

"Nobody," said Moany, picking moodily at a spot on his chin. "She said she'd come back and see me, but then _you_ said you'd pop in and visit me, too ..." he gave me a reproachful look, " ... and I haven't seen you for months and months. I've learned not to expect much from girls."

"I thought you lived in that boys' bathroom?" I said, being careful to give the place a wide berth for some years.

"I do," he said, with a sulky little shrug, "but that doesn't mean I can't _visit_ other places. I came and saw you in your bath once, remember?"

"Vividly," I said, as I felt my cheeks burn red, and next to me, I saw Chrissie trying to keep a straight face. I glared at her.

"But I thought she liked me," he said plaintively. "Maybe if you two left, she'd come back again ... we had lots in common ... I'm sure she felt it ..."

And he looked hopefully towards the door.

"When you say lots in common," said Chrissie, sounding rather amused now, " d'you mean she lives in an S-bend, too?"

"No," said Monay defiantly, his voice echoing around the old tiled bathroom. "I mean she's sensitive, people bully her, too, and she feels lonely and hasn't got anybody to talk to, and she's not afraid to show her feelings and cry!"

"There's been a girl in here crying?" I said curiously. "A young girl?"

"What's so odd about that?" said Chrissie, sounding confused. "We girls cry in bathrooms all the time, don't we?"

"Not to ghosts, we don't," I said pointedly.

"Fair point," shrugged Chrissie.

"Never you mind who cries in here!" said Moany, calling our attention back to him, his small, leaky eyes fixed on Chrissie, who was now definitely grinning. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone and I'll take her secret to the - "

" - not the grave, surely?" said Chrissie with a snort. "The sewers, maybe ..."

Moany gave a howl of rage and dived back into the toilet, causing water to slop over the sides and on to the floor. Goading Moany seemed to have put fresh heart into Chrissie.

"You're right," she said, swinging her schoolbag back over her shoulder. "I've got until summer to do the actual test. I can worry about Apparition then."

And so the following weekend Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I watched the rest of the sixth-years who would turn seventeen in time to take the test in a fortnight. I knew that my three best friends, much like myself, watched the crowd who were waiting to go into the village enviously; I missed making trips there, and it was a particularly fine spring day, one of the first clear skies we had seen in a long time. However, I had decided to use the time to attempt another assault on the Room of Needs.

"You'd do better," said Sian, when I confided this plan to her, Chris and Chrissie at the top of the marble staircase, "to go straight to Beadu's office and try and get that memory from her."

"I've been trying!" I said crossly, which was perfectly true. I had lagged behind after every Potions lesson that week in an attempt to corner Beadu, but the Potions mistress always left the dungeon so fast that I had not been able to catch her. Twice, I had gone to her office and knocked, but I received no reply, though on the second occasion I was sure I had heard the quickly stifled sounds of an old gramophone. "She doesn't want to talk to me, Sian! She can tell I've been trying to get her on her own again and she's not going to let it happen!"

"Well, you've just got to keep at it, haven't you?"

We watched from the top of the stairs as the other sixth-years filed slowly past Match, who was doing his usual prodding with the Secrecy Sensor. When we could no longer see them, Chris, Sian and Chrissie headed back to the Lion-Heart common room together to get some work done. I waited until I could no longer hear them and set off up the marble staircase, determined, whatever Sian said, to devote an hour or two to the Room of Needs.

Once out of sight of the Entrance Hall, I pulled out the Scallywags Map and my Invisibility Cloak from my bag. Having concealed myself, I tapped the Map, murmured, "I solemnly swear that I shall do no good," and scanned it carefully.

As it was a Sunday morning, nearly all the students were inside their various common room, the Lion-Hearts in one tower, the Raven-Wings in another, the Snake-Eyes in the dungeons and the Badger-Stripes in the basement near the kitchens. Here and there a stray person meandered around the library or up a corridor ... there were a few people out in the grounds ... and there, alone in the seventh-floor corridor, was Gemma Gabber. There was no sign of the Room of Needs, but I was not worried about that; if Gabber was standing guard outside it, the Room was open, whether the Map was aware of it or not. I therefore sprinted up the stairs, slowing down only when I reached the corner into the corridor, when I began to creep, very slowly, towards the very same little boy, clutching his heavy brass scales, that Sian had so kindly helped a fortnight before. I waited until I was right behind him before bending very low and whispering, "Hello ... you're very handsome, aren't you?"

Gabber gave a high-pitched scream of terror, threw the scales up into the air and sprinted away, vanishing from sight long before the sound of scales smashing had stopped echoing around the corridor. Laughing, I turned to contemplate the blank wall behind which, I was sure, Dani Malty was now standing frozen, aware that someone unwelcome was out there, but not daring to make an appearance. It gave me a most agreeable feeling of power as I tried to remember what form of words I had not yet tried.

Yet my hopeful mood did not last long. Half an hour later, having tried many variations of my request to see what Malty was up to, the wall was just as doorless as ever. I felt frustrated beyond belief; Malty might just be feet away from me, and there was still not the tiniest shred of evidence as to what she was doing in there. Losing my patience completely, I ran at the lower wall and kicked it.

"OUCH!"

I thought I might have broken my toe; as I clutched at it and hopped on one foot, the Invisibility Cloak slipped off me.

"Kiara?"

I spun round, one-legged, and toppled over. There, to my utter astonishment, was Todd, walking towards me as though she frequently strolled up this corridor.

"What're you doing here?" I said, scrambling to my feet again; why did she always have to find me lying on the floor?

"I came to see Crighton," said Todd.

I thought she looked terrible; thinner than usual, her mouse-coloured hair lank.

"Her office isn't here," I said, "it's round the other side of the castle, you have to use the glass elevator - "

"I know," said Todd. "She's not there. Apparently she's gone away again."

"Has she?" I said, putting my bruised foot gingerly back on the floor. "Hey - you don't know where she goes, I suppose?"

"No," said Todd.

"What did you want to see her about?"

"Nothing particular," said Todd, picking, apparently unconsciously at the sleeve of her robe. "I just thought she might know what's going on ... I've heard rumours ... people getting hurt ..."

"Yeah, I know, it's all be in the papers," I said. "That little kid trying to kill her - "

" _The Squabbler_ 's often behind the times," said Todd, who didn't seem to be listening to me. "You haven't ha any letters from anyone in the Order recently?"

"My parents are the only ones who bother now, and I've not heard anything worrying from them," I said. "After all, who's going to write to me? Pumbaa - "

I saw that her eyes had filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," I muttered awkwardly. "I mean ... he was a good man ..."

"What?" said Todd blankly, as though she had not heard me. "Well ... I'll see you around, Kiara ..."

And she turned abruptly and walked back down the corridor, leaving me to stare after her. After a minute or so, I pulled the Invisibility Cloak on again and resumed my efforts to get into the Room of Needs, but my heart was not in it. Finally, a hollow feeling in my stomach and the knowledge that Chris, Sian and Chrissie were down at lunch made me abandon the attempt and leave the corridor to Malty who, hopefully, would be too afraid to leave for some horrible hours to come.

I found Chris, Sian and Chrissie in the Great Hall, already halfway through an early lunch.

"So, Kiara," said Sian, the moment she saw me, "I take it that, seeing as we haven't seen you since this morning, that you've been up at the Room of Needs all this time?"

"Yep," I said. "And guess who I ran into up there? Todd!"

"Todd?" repeated Chris, Sian and Chrissie together, all looking surprised.

"Yeah, she said she'd come to visit Crighton."

"If you ask me," said Chrissie once I had finished describing my conversation with Todd, "she's cracking up a bit. Losing her nerve after what happened at the Ministry."

"It's a bit odd," said Sian, who for some reason looked very concerned. "She's supposed to be guarding the school, why's she suddenly abandoning her post to come and see Ma when she's not even here?"

"I had a thought," I said tentatively. I felt strange about voicing it; this was much more Sian's territory than mine. "You don't think she can have been ... you know ... in love with Pumbaa?"

Sian stared at me.

"What on earth makes you say that?"

"I dunno," I said, shrugging, "but she was nearly crying when I mentioned his name ... and her Patronus is quite a big four-legged thing now ... I wondered whether it hadn't become ... you know ... him."

"It's a thought," said Sian slowly. "But I still don't know why she'd be bursting into the castle to see Ma, if that's really why she was here ..."

"Goes back to what I said, doesn't it?" said Chrissie, who was now shovelling mashed potato into her mouth. "She's gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. You know," she said wisely to Chris and I, " sometimes I think it would be easier if people simply laughed their troubles away."

"And yet," said Sian, coming out of her reverie, "I doubt you'll find _anyone_ who'll laugh about your joke about the hag, the healer and the _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_."

"Hey, I laughed at that!" said Chrissie indignantly.

"Sister, just because you found something amusing does not mean that you should expect the rest of the world to laugh with you," said Sian bluntly.

Chrissie looked annoyed at Sian's words. "I'm funny, damn it!"

To this, Sian just sighed, "Keep telling yourself that, dear."

Chris and I snorted. Chrissie scowled.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN 1: Hello, my dear readers. This chapter is longer because I wanted to write about Chrissie and Larry's and Chris and Dena's break-up scenes, which are towards the end of this chapter. So I hope you enjoy this chapter and see the bottom for more notes.**

 **Chapter 23**

 **After the Burial**

 **KIARA**

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrets, but these signs of approaching summer did not lift my mood. I had been thwarted, both in my attempts to find out what Malty was doing, and in my efforts to start a conversation with Beadu that might lead, somehow, to Beadu handing over the memory she had apparently suppressed for decades.

"For the last time, just forget about Malty," Sian told me firmly.

We were sitting with Chrissie in a sunny corner of the courtyard after lunch, relaxing before our Potions lesson that afternoon. However, one of us did not appear too relaxed; every time Chrissie saw a boy, she would give a start and would try to hide behind Sian.

"It's not Larry," said Sian wearily.

"Oh, good," said Chrissie, relaxing again.

"Kiara Pride-Lander?" said the boy. "I was asked to give you this."

"Thanks ..."

My heart sank as I took the small scroll of parchment. Once the boy was out of earshot I said, "Crighton said we wouldn't be having any more lessons until I get the memory!"

"Maybe she wants to check on how you're doing?" suggested Sian, as I unrolled the parchment; but rather than finding Crighton's long, narrow, slanting writing I saw an untidy sprawl, very different to read due to the presence of large blotches on the parchment where the ink had run.

 _Dear Kiara, Chris, Sian and Chrissie,_

 _Aratota died last night. Chris, Kiara and Chrissie, you met her, and you know how special she was. Sian, I know you'd have liked her. It would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was her favourite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the Cloak. Wouldn't ask but I can't face it alone._

 _Mina_

"Look at this," I said, handing the note to Sian.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Chrissie, who read it through, looking increasingly incredulous.

"She's _mental_!" she said furiously. "That thing told its mates to eat Chris, Kiara and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Mina expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible body!"

"It's not just that," said Sian. "She's asking us to leave the castle at night, and she knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if we were caught."

"We've been down to see her by night before," I said.

"Yes, but for something like this?" said Sian. "We've risked a lot to help Mina out, but after all - Aratota's dead. If it were a question of saving her - "

"I'd want to go even less," said Chrissie, "and I'm sure that Chris would say the same. Besides, you didn't meet her, Sian. Believe me, being dead will have improved her a lot."

I took the note back and stared down at the inky blotches all over it. Tears had fallen thick and fast upon the parchment.

"Kiara, you _can't_ be thinking of going," said Sian. "It's such a pointless thing to get detention for."

I sighed.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "I s'pose Mina'll have to bury Aratota without us."

"Yes, she will," said Sian, looking relieved. "Look, Potions will be mostly empty this afternoon, with most of the class going off to do their tests ... so why don't you try and soften Beadu up a bit them!"

"Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" I said bitterly.

"Luck," said Chrissie suddenly. "Kiara, that's it - get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?"

"Use your lucky potion!"

"Chrissie, that's - that's it!" said Sian, looking stunned. "Of course! It's so obvious, so clear! Why didn't I think of that?"

I stared at them both. "Felix Felicis?" I said. "I dunno ... I was sort of saving it ..."

"What for?" demanded Chrissie incredulously.

"What on earth is more important than this memory, Kiara?" asked Sian.

I did not answer. The thought of that little golden bottle had hovered on the edges of my imagination for some time; vague and unformulated pans that involved Chris splitting up with Dean, and Chrissie somehow happy to see Chris and I together, had been fermenting in the depths of my brain, unacknowledged except during dreams or the twilight time between sleeping and waking ...

"Kiara? Are you still with us?" asked Sian.

"Wha- ? Yeah, of course," I said, pulling myself together. "Well ... OK, if I can't get Beadu to talk this afternoon, I'll take some Felix and have another go this evening."

"That's decided, then," said Sian briskly. She then looked around, frowning. "I wonder where Rickers is, anyway?"

"He's with Dena," said Chrissie distastefully. "Knowing Chris, he's probably got Dena in private somewhere, snogging her to his - quick, hide me!"

"It isn't Larry!" said Sian impatiently, as another couple of boys appeared in the courtyard and Chrissie dived behind her.

"Cool," said Chrissie, peering over Sian's shoulder to check. "Blimey, they don't look happy, do they?"

"They're the Malone brothers and of course they don't look happy, didn't you hear what happened to their little sister?" said Sian.

"I'm losing track of what's happening to everyone's relatives, to be honest," said Chrissie.

"Well, their sister was attacked by a werewolf. The rumour is that their father refused to help the Love Destroyers. Anyway, the girl was only five and she died in St Mungo's, they couldn't save her."

"She died?" I repeated, shocked. "But surely werewolves don't kill, they just turn you into one of them?"

"They sometimes kill," said Chrissie, who looked unusually grave now. "I've heard of it happening when the werewolf gets carried away."

"What was the werewolf's name?" I said quickly.

"Well, the rumour is that it was Rasputin Silverfur," said Sian.

"I knew it - the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Meers told me about!" I said angrily.

Sian looked at me bleakly.

"Kiara, you've got to get that memory," she said. "It's all about stopping Zira, isn't it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to her ..."

The bell rang. Sian, Chrissie and I jumped to our feet and headed off to Potions. On the way, Chris joined us. Rather than looking breathless, red-faced and happy, Chris did indeed look red-coloured in his cheeks, and his breathing was quite heavy, but he looked to be in a foul mood, which suggested that he did not have as good a time with Dena as Chrissie thought, something that made me smile inside.

There were only six of us in Potions that afternoon: Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Emily, Dani Malty and I.

"All too young to Apparate just yet?" said Beadu gently. "Not turned seventeen yet?"

We all shook our heads

"Ah well," said Beadu cheerily, "as we're so few, we'll do something _fun_. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!"

"That sounds good, ma'am," said Emily sycophantically, rubbing her hands together. Sian looked intrigued by this, Chris quite so, and Chrissie tried to look interested, but I could tell that she really wished she wasn't there. Malty, to my surprise, looked just as bored as Chrissie.

"What do you mean, something 'amusing'?" she said irritably.

"Oh, surprise me," said Beadu airily.

Malty opened her copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ with a sulky expression that equalled Chrissie's. It could not have been plainer that she thought this lesson was a whole waste of time. Undoubtedly, I thought, watching her over the top of my own book, Malty was begrudging the time she could be otherwise spending time in the Room of Needs.

Malty was sitting close to me, and looking at her, I thought that she, like Todd, looked thinner. She certainly looked paler; her skin still had that greyish tinge, probably because she so rarely saw daylight these days. But there was no air of smugness, or excitement, or superiority; none of the swagger that she had had on the subs, when she had boasted openly of the mission she had been given by Zira ... there could only be one conclusion, in my opinion: the mission, whatever it was, was going badly.

Cheered by this thought, I skimmed through my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ and found a heavily corrected Half-Blood Princess' version of An Elixir to Induce Euphoria, which seemed not only to meet Beadu's instructions, but which might (my hear leapt as the thought struck me) put Beadu into such a good mood that she would be prepared to hand over that memory if I could persuade her to drink some ...

"Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful," said Beadu, clapping her hands together an hour and a half later, as she stared down into the sunshine-yellow contents of my cauldron. "Euphoria, I take it? And what's that I smell? Mmmm ... you've added just a sprig of peppermint, haven't you? Unorthodox, but what a wonderful surprise, Kiara. Of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side-effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking ... I really don't know where you get these brainwaves, my girl ... unless - "

I pushed the Half-Blood Princess' book deeper into my bag with my foot.

" - it's just your father's genes coming out in you!"

"Oh ... yeah, maybe," I said, relieved.

Emily was looking rather grumpy; determined to outshine me for once, she had rashly invented her own potion, which curdled and formed a kind of purple dumpling in the bottom of her cauldron. Chris, Sian and Chrissie had all decided to try brewing Euphoria, too: Chris' was bubbling sluggishly, a drop spitting and falling back in every so often, and just like Emily he, too, did not look happy; Sian's potion was just a shade off the sunshine-yellow of mine; and Chrissie's was a hardened lump of moss that gave off a foul smell of bad eggs. Neither she nor Sian looked too disappointed, however, for they knew just how important it was for me to get that memory from Beadu. Malty was already packing up, sour-faced; Beadu had pronounced her Hiccoughing solution as merely "passible".

The bell rang and Chris, Emily and Malty left at once. Sian and Chrissie followed them, both mouthing "good luck" to me as they passed.

"Ma'am," I began, but Beadu immediately glanced over her shoulder; when she saw that the room was empty but for herself and I she hurried away as fast as she could.

"Professor - Professor, don't you want to taste my po- ?" I called desperately.

But Beadu had gone. Disappointed, I emptied the cauldron, packed up my things, left the dungeon and walked slowly back upstairs to the common room.

When I got there, Chris was nowhere in sight, but I immediately spotted Sian and Chrissie sitting by the window and I headed directly for them. Sian was the first to notice me.

"You're back early. I take it things didn't go so well with Beadu, then?"

"No," I sighed, as I slumped into the seat next to her.

"So, Kiara - you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?" Chrissie demanded.

"Yeah, I s'pose I'd better," I said. "I don't reckon I'll need all of it, not twelve hours' worth, it can't take all night ... I'll just take a mouthful. Two or three hours should do it."

"It's a great feeling when you take it," said Chrissie reminiscently. "Like you can't do anything wrong."

"What are you talking about?" said Sian, laughing. "You've never taken any!"

"Yeah, but I _thought_ I had, didn't I?" said Chrissie, as though explaining the obvious. "Same difference, really ..."

When we went down to dinner that night, Sian, Chrissie and I kept looking for a glimpse of Beadu. It was only when we were leaving the Great Hall that we saw her enter. We knew that she liked to take her time over meals, so we lingered for a while in the common room, the plan being that I should go to Beadu's office once the teacher had had time to get back there. When the sun had sunk to the level of the treetops in the Black Forest we decided the moment had come, and, after checking carefully that Beth, Kestrel and Merida were all in the common room, we sneaked up to the girls' dormitory.

I took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of my trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle.

"Well, here goes," I said, and I raised the little bottle and took a carefully measured gulp.

"What does it feel like?" whispered Sian.

I did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through me; I remember feeling as though I could do anything, anything at all ... and getting the memory from Beadu seemed suddenly not only possible, but positively easy ...

I got to my feet smiling, brimful of confidence.

"Excellent," I said. "Really excellent. Right ... I'm going down to Mina's."

"What?" said Sian and Chrissie together, looking aghast.

"No, Kiara - you've got to go and see Beadu, remember?" said Sian.

"No," I said confidently. "I'm going to Mina's, I've got a good feeling about going to Mina's."

"You've got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?" asked Chrissie, looking stunned.

"Yeah," I said, pulling my Invisibility Cloak out of my bag. "I feel like it's the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?"

"No," said Sian and Chrissie together, both looking positively alarmed now.

"This _is_ Felix Felicis, I suppose?" said Sian anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. "You haven't got a little bottle full of - I don't know - "

"Essence of Insanity?" suggested Chrissie, as I swung my Cloak over my shoulders.

I laughed and Sian and Chrissie looked even more alarmed.

"Trust me," I said. "I know what I'm doing ... or at least ..." I strolled confidently to the door, "Felix does."

I pulled the Invisibility Cloak over my head and set off down the stairs, Sian and Chrissie hurrying along behind me. At the foot of the stairs I slid through the open door.

"What were you doing up there with _her_?" bellowed Larry Brown, staring right through me at Sian and Chrissie emerging together from the girls' dormitories. I heard Chrissie spluttering behind me as I darted across the common room away from them.

Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as I approached it, Chris and Dena came through it and I was able to slip between them. As I did so, I brushed accidentally against Chris.

" _Don't_ push me, please, Dena," he said, sounding annoyed. "You're always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own, you know ..."

The portrait swung closed behind me, but not before I had heard Dena make an angry retort ... my feeling of elation increasing, I strode off through the castle. I did not have to creep along, for I met nobody on my way, but this did not surprise me in the slightest: that evening, I was the luckiest person at Dragon Mort.

Why I knew that going to Mina's was the right thing to do, I had no idea. It was as though the potion was illuminating a few steps of the path to me at a time: I could not see the final destination, I could not see where Beadu came in, but I knew that I was going the right way to get that memory. When I reached the Entrance Hall I saw that Match had forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming, I threw it open and breathed in the smell of clean air and grass for a moment before I walked down the steps into the dusk.

It was when I reached the bottom step that it occurred to me how very pleasant it would be for me to pass the vegetable patch on my walk to Mina's. It was not strictly on the way, but it seemed clear to me that this was a whim on which I should act, so I directed my feet immediately towards the vegetable patch where I was pleased, but not altogether surprised, to find Professor Beadu in conversation with Spud. I lurked behind a low stone wall, feeling at peace with the world and listening to their conversation.

"I do thank you for taking the time, Spud," Beadu was saying courteously. "Most authorities agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked at twilight."

"True dat, girl," said Spud warmly. "Those goods do you?"

"Plenty, plenty," said Beadu, who, I saw, was carrying an armful of leafy plants. "This should allow for a few leaves for each of my third-years, and some to spare if anybody overstews them ... well, good evening to you, and many thanks again!"

Spud headed off into the gathering darkness in the direction of his greenhouses and Beadu directed her steps to the spot where I stood, invisible.

Seized with an immediate desire to reveal myself, I pulled off the Cloak with a flourish.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Merlin's beard, Kiara, you made me jump," said Beadu, stopping dead in her tracks and looking wary. "How did you get out of the castle?"

"I think Match must've forgotten to lock the doors," I said cheerfully, and I was delighted to see the scowl that crossed Beadu's face.

"I'll be reporting that man, he's more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me .. but why are you out here, Kiara?"

"Well, ma'am, it's Mina," I said, for I knew that the right thing to do at that point was to tell the truth. "She's pretty upset ... but you won't tell anyone, Professor? I don't want trouble for her ..."

Beadu's curiosity was evidently aroused.

"Well, I can't promise that," she said gruffly. "But I know that Crighton trusts Mina to the hilt, so I'm sure she can't be up to anything very dreadful ..."

"Well, it's this giant spider, she's had it for years ... it lived in the Forest ... it could talk and everything - "

"I heard rumours there were Acromantula in the Forest," said Beadu softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. "It's true, then?"

"Yes," I said. "But this one, Aratota, the first one Mina got, it died last night. She's devastated. She wants company while she buries it and I said I'd go."

"Touching, touching," said Beadu absent-mindedly, her large sharp eyes fixed upon the distant light of Mina's cabin. "But Acromantula venom is very valuable ... if the beast has only just died it might not yet have dried out ... of course, I wouldn't want to do anything insensitive if Mina is upset ... but if there were any way to procure some ... I mean, it's almost impossible to get some from an Acromantula while it's alive ..."

Beadu seemed to be talking to herself more than me now.

" ... seems an awful waste not to collect it ... might get a hundred Galleons a pint ... to be frank, my salary is not large ..."

And then I saw clearly what was to be done.

"Well," she said, with a most convincing hesitancy, "well, if you wanted to come, Professor, Mina would probably be really pleased ... give Aratota a better send-off, you know ..."

"Yes, of course," said Beadu, her eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. "I tell you what, Kiara, I'll meet you down there with a bottle or two ... we'll drink the poor beast's - well - not health, but we'll send it off in style, anyway, once it's buried. And I'll change my robes, these ones are a little exuberant for the occasion ..."

She bustled back into the castle, and I sped off to Mina's, delighted with myself.

"Yeh came," croaked Mina, when she opened the door and saw me emerging from the Invisibility Cloak in front of her.

"Yeah - Chris, Sian and Chrissie couldn't, though," I said. "They're really sorry."

"Don' - don' matter ... she'd've bin touched yeh're here, though, Kiara ..."

Mina gave a great sob. She had made herself a black armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish and her eyes were puffy, red and swollen. I patted her consolingly on the elbow, which was the highest point of Mina I could easily reach.

"Where are we burying her?" I asked. "The Forest?"

"Blimey, no," said Mina, wiping her streaming eyes on the back of her sleeve. "The other spiders won' let me anywhere near their webs now Aratota's gone. Turns out it was on'y on her orders they didn' eat me! Can yeh believe that, Kiara?"

The honest answer was "yes"; I recalled with painful ease the scene where Chris, Chrissie and I had come face to face with the Acromantula: they had been quite clear that Aratota was the only thing that stopped eating Mina.

"Never bin an area o' the Forest I couldn' go before!" said Mina, shaking her head. "It wasn' easy, gettin' Aratota's body out o' there, I can tell yeh - they usually eat their dead, see ... but I wanted ter give 'er a nice burial ... a proper send-off ..."

She broke into sobs again and I resumed the patting of her elbow, saying as I did so (for the potion seemed to indicate that it was the right thing to do), "Professor Beadu met me coming down here, Mina."

"Not in trouble, are yeh?" said Mina, looking up, alarmed. "Yeh shouldn' be outta the castle in the evenin', I know it, it's my fault - "

"No, no, when she heard what I was doing she said she'd like to come and pay her last respects to Aratota too," I said. "She's gone to change into something more suitable, I think ... and she said she'd bring some bottles so we can drink to Aratota's memory ..."

"Did she?" said Mina, looking both astonished and touched. "Tha's - tha's righ' nice of her, tha' is, an' not turnin' you in, either. I've never really had a lot to do with Arachne Beadu before ... comin' ter see old Aratota off, though, eh? Well, she'd've liked that, Aratota would ..."

I thought privately that what Aratota would have liked most about Beadu was the flesh on her bones - not a lot, but some - but I merely moved to the rear window of Mina's hut where I saw the rather horrible sight of the enormous dead spider lying on its back outside, its legs curled and tangled.

"Are we going to bury her here, Mina, in your garden?"

"Jus' beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought," said Mina in a choked voice. "I've already dug the - you know - grave. Jus' thought we'd say a few nice things over her - happy memories, yeh know - "

Her voice quivered and broke. There was a knock on the door and she turned to answer it, blowing her nose on her great spotted handkerchief as she did so. Beadu hurried over the threshold, several bottles in her arms, and wearing sombre black dress robes, decorated with dark red stripes on the rear, making her look even more spiderlike than ever.

"Mina," she said, in a deep, grave voice. "So very sorry to hear of your loss."

"Tha's very nice of yeh," said Mina. "Thanks a lot. An' thanks fer not givin' Kiara detention, neither ..."

"Wouldn't have dreamed of it," said Beadu. "Sad night, sad night ... where is the poor creature?"

"Out here," said Mina in a shaky voice. "Shall we - shall we do it, then?"

The three of us stepped out into the back garden. The moon was glistening palely through the trees and its rays mingled with the light from Mina's window to illuminate Aratota's body lying on the edge of a massive pit, beside a ten-foot-high mound of freshly dug earth.

"Magnificent," said Beadu, approaching the spider's head, where eight milky eyes stared blankly at the sky and two huge, curved pincers shone, motionless, in the moonlight. I thought I heard the tinkle of bottles as Beadu bent over the pincers, apparently examining the enormous hairy head.

"It's not ev'ryone appreciates how beau'iful they are," said Mina to Beadu's back, tears leaking from the corners of her crinkled eyes. "I didn' know yeh were int'rested in creatures like Aratota, Arachne."

"Interested? My dear Mina, I revere them," said Beadu, stepping back from the body. I saw a glint of a bottle disappear beneath her cloak, though Mina, mopping her eyes once more, noticed nothing. "Now ... shall we proceed to the burial?"

Mina nodded and moved forwards. She heaved the gigantic spider into her arms and, with an enormous grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit the bottom with a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Mina started to cry again.

"Of course, it's difficult for you, you who knew her best," said Beadu, who, with her long arms, could reach slightly past her elbow, but patted her arm all the same. "Why don't I say a few words?"

She must have got a lot of good-quality venom from Aratota, I thought, for Beadu wore a satisfied smirk as she stepped up to the rim of the pit and said, in a slow, impressive voice, "Farewell, Aratota, queen of arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won't forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your Forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained."

"Tha' was ... tha' was ... beau'iful!" howled Mina and she collapsed on to the compost heap, crying harder than ever.

"There, there," said Beadu, waving her wand so that the huge pile of earth rose up and then fell, with a muffled sort of crash, on to the dead spider, forming a smooth mound. "Let's get inside and have a drink. Get on her other side, Kiara ... that's it ... up you come, Mina ... well done ..."

We disposed Mina in a chair at the table. Gnasher, who had been skulking in her basket during the burial, now came padding slowly across to us and put her heavy head in my lap as usual. Beadu uncorked one of the bottles of wine she brought.

"I have had it all tested for poison," she assured me, as she poured most of the first bottle into one of Mina's bucket-sized mugs and handed it to Mina. "Had a house-elf test every bottle after what happened to your friend Cassie."

I saw in my mind's eye, the expression on Sian's face if she ever heard about this abuse of house-elves, and decided, there and then, never to mention it to her (when she reads this, however, she will, so Sian, I am sorry, but if it makes you feel any better, be glad that I had nothing to do with it).

"One for Kiara ..." said Beadu, dividing a second bottle between two mugs, "... and one for me. Well," she raised her mug high, "to Aratota."

"Aratota," Mina and I said together.

Both Beadu and Mina drank deeply. I however, with the way ahead of me illuminated by Felix Felicis, knew that I must not drink, so I merely pretended to take a gulp and then set the mug back on the table before me.

"I had her from an egg, yeh know," said Mina morosely. "Tiny little thing she was when she hatched. 'Bout the size of a Pekinese."

"Sweet," said Beadu.

"Used ter keep her in a cupboard up at the school until ... well ..."

Mina's face darkened and I knew why: Dizra Maliay had contrived to have Mina thrown out of school, blamed for the opening of the Chamber of Mysteries. Beadu, however, did not seem to be listening; she was looking up at the ceiling, from which a number of brass pots hung, and also a long, silky skein of bright white hair.

"That's never unicorn hair, Mina?"

"Oh, yeah," said Mina indifferently. "Gets pulled out of their tails, they catch it on branches an' stuff in the Forest, yeh know ..."

"But my dear girl, do you know how much that's _worth_?"

"I use it fer bindin' on bandages an' stuff if a creature gets injured," said Mina, shrugging. "It's dead useful ... very strong, see."

Beadu took another deep draught from her mug, her eyes moving carefully around the cabin now, looking, I knew, for more treasures that she might be able to convert into a plentiful supply of oak-matured mead, crystallised pineapple and velvet dress coats. She refilled Mina's mug and her own, and questioned her about the creatures that lived in the Forest these days and how Mina was able to look after them all. Mina, becoming expansive under the influence of the drink and Beadu's flattering interest, stopped mopping her eyes and entered happily into a long explanation of Bowtruckle husbandry.

The Felix Felicis gave me a little nudge at this point and I noticed that the supply of a drink that Beadu had brought was running out fast. By this point, I had not - and still haven't - managed to bring off the Refilling Charm without saying the incantation aloud, but the idea that I might not have been able to do it that night was laughable: indeed, I grinned to myself as, unnoticed by either Mina or Beadu (now swapping tales of the illegal trade in dragon eggs), I pointed my wand under the table at the empty bottles and they immediately began to refill.

After an hour or so, Mina and Beadu began making extravagant toasts: to Dragon Mort, to Crighton, to elf-made wine and to -

"Kiara Pride-Lander!" bellowed Mina, slopping some of her fourteenth bucket of wine down her chin as she drained it.

"Yes, indeed," cried Beadu a little thickly, "Kiara Lide-Pander, the Chosen Girl Who - well, something of that sort," she mumbled, and drained her mug, too.

Not long after this, Mina became tearful again and pressed upon the whole unicorn tail upon Beadu, who pocketed it with cries of, "To friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!"

And for a while after that, Mina and Beadu were sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying wizard called Odo.

"Aaargh, the good die young," muttered Mina, slumping low on the table, a little cross-eyed, while Beadu continued to warble the refrain. "Me mum was no age ter go ... an yeh mum an' dad were close ter snuffin' it, too, Kiara ..."

Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Mina's crinkled eyes again; she grasped my arm and shook it.

" ... bes' wiz an' witchard o' their age I'll ever know ... terrible thing, it was, when you were taken away from them ... terrible thing ..."

Beadu sang plaintively:

 _"And Odo the hero, they bore him back home_

 _To the place that he'd known as a lad,_

 _They laid him to rest with his hat inside out_

 _And his wand snapped in two, which was sad."_

" ... terrible," Mina grunted and her great smooth head rolled sideways on to her arms and she fell asleep, snoring deeply.

"Sorry," said Beadu with a hiccough. "Can't carry a tune to save my life."

"Mina wasn't talking about your singing," I said quietly. "She was talking about the day I got separated from my parents."

"Oh," said Beadu, repressing a large belch. "Oh, dear. Yes, that was - was terrible indeed. Terrible ... terrible ..."

She looked quite at a loss for what to say, and resorted to the refilling of our mugs.

"I don't - don't suppose you remember it, Kiara?" she asked awkwardly.

"No - well, I was only ten months old when it happened," I said, my eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in Mina's heavy snores. "But I've found out pretty much what happened since then. I escaped my babysitters to a nearby dead tree. Did you know that?"

"I - I didn't," said Beadu in a hushed voice.

"Yeah ... Zira snuck up on me and tried to kill me ... but obviously that didn't work, because I'm still here ... with this scar on my forehead ... the only mark the curse gave me," I said.

Beadu gave a great shudder, but she did not seem able to tear her horrified gaze away from my face.

"I had a brother, you know," I said. "Older than me, of course. He was a young boy with a lot of potential when Zira found him."

"Oh dear," breathed Beadu. "The poor boy ..."

"I know," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Zira tortured him. His screams alerted my parents. He was taken away by two of Zira's followers before they could get there. They saw the blood on the floor, though ... they tried searching for him, but there was no sign of him ... he was only four ..."

"That's enough!" said Beadu suddenly, raising a shaking hand. "Really, my dear girl, enough ... I'm an old woman ... I don't need to hear ... I don't want to hear ..."

"I forgot," I lied, Felix Felicis leading me on. "You liked my father, didn't you?"

"Liked him?" said Beadu, her eyes brimming with tears once more. "I can't imagine there being a single good soul on earth that will not like your father the moment they meet him ... he's a brave man ... a funny, charming one ... it was the most horrible thing, you being separated from him and Nala ..."

"But you won't help his daughter," I said. "He helped save me, but you can't give me a memory."

Mina's rumbling snores filled the cabin. I looked steadily into Beadu's tear-filled eyes. The Potions mistress seemed unable to look away.

"Don't say that," she whispered. "It isn't a question ... if it were to help you, of course ... but no purpose can be served ..."

"It can," I said clearly. "Crighton needs information. I need information."

I knew I was safe: Felix was telling me that Beadu would remember nothing of this in the morning. Looking Beadu straight in the eye, I leant forwards a little.

"I am the Chosen One. I have to kill her. I need that memory."

Beadu turned paler than ever; her stretched forehead gleamed with sweat.

"You _are_ the Chosen One?"

"Of course I am," I said calmly.

"But then ... my dear girl ... you're asking a great deal ... you're asking me, in fact, to aid in your attempt to destroy - "

"You don't want to get rid of the witch who killed my brother and separated me from my parents?"

"Kiara, Kiara, of course I do, but - "

"You're scared she'll find out you helped me?"

Beadu said nothing; she looked terrified.

"Be brave like my father would want you to be, Professor ... be brave like him ..."

Beadu raised a long, bony hand and pressed her shaking fingers to her mouth; she looked for a moment like a frightened lost child.

"I'm not proud ..." she whispered through her fingers. "I am ashamed of what - of what that memory shows ... I thin I may have done great damage that day ..."

"You'd cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory," I said. "It would be a very brave and noble thing to do."

Mina twitched in her sleep and snored on. Beadu and I stared at each other over the guttering candle. There was a long, long silence, but Felix Felicis told me not to break it, to wait.

Then, very slowly, Beadu put her hand in her pocket and pulled out her wand. She put her other hand inside her cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. Still looking into my eyes, Beadu touched the tip of her wand to her temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand-tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Beadu lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. She corked the bottle with a trembling hand then passed it across the table to me.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

"You're a good girl," said Professor Beadu, tears trickling down her thin cheeks. "And you've got his mouth ... just don't think too badly of me once you've seen it ..."

And she, too, put her head on her arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep.

And for those of you wondering what happened between Larry and Chrissie and Chris and Dena, then wonder no more, because you are going to see it all through the eyes of Sian.

 **SIAN**

Larry looked furious, Chrissie looked like a flabbergasted deer caught in headlights and Sian watched on, feeling both amused and annoyed. Amused at Chrissie's expression, and annoyed that she had to be the one to fix her sister's mess, yet again! Seeing as Chrissie wasn't going to help any time soon, Sian decided to step in to get the ball rolling.

"So what if I was up there with her?" she demanded. "Chrissie's my sister, isn't she? She can spend time with me if she wants to. That's not a crime, is it?"

Larry rounded on her.

"Maybe it's not a crime," Larry snarled, "but you can't deny that you haven't exactly acted like a sister toward Chrissie recently, can you?"

Sian said nothing. Larry smirked.

"So how come you didn't speak to her, then - until she suddenly got all interesting, that is."

Sian was outraged by this comment.

"Interesting? _Interesting?_ My sister was poisoned, you daft dimbo, not some part of a freak show! And the reason I didn't talk to Chrissie was because I didn't like seeing her with you!"

"Then why didn't you say anything to her about it?" demanded Larry, tilting his head to the side.

"Because as much as I hated seeing the two of you together, the last thing I wanted was for Chrissie to hate me for ever." Sian's gaze softened as she looked at Chrissie. "And I knew that you would if I tried to keep the two of you apart, and I don't think my heart could've taken it if you did."

Chrissie looked at Sian, speechless. Sian smiled and shrugged bashfully, but their moment was broken by Larry, who said, "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sian, but Chrissie's my girlfriend, so you're just going to have to butt-out and stay away from us - "

"What?" came Chrissie's furious voice, making Sian and Larry look at her. Sian saw Chrissie look both shocked and angry by Larry's words. "You can't do that, Larry!"

"But she's - "

"No!" Chrissie said firmly. "Sian may be a lot of things - annoying, a show-off, a know-it-all - but she's still my sister, and the fact that she kept quiet despite how she felt about you and I being together says a lot about her that you don't understand, Larry! Besides, I am not some trophy of yours to show off whenever you feel like it, just like I'm a person with her own mind who refuses to be commanded about! And if you think that I'm going to choose you over my own sister, then I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen." Chrissie took a few deep breaths before she drew the final blow, "I'm sorry, Larry, but we're through."

Sian stood there, shocked by what Chrissie had just done. Larry glared at Chrissie for a few moments before he stormed passed her up the stairs, slamming the door to the dormitories violently behind him, which jerked Sian back to her senses. She turned to look at Chrissie and, before Chrissie could say anything, Sian had flung her arms around her, holding her sister tight.

"Sian, wha- ?" Chrissie started to say, but Sian pulled back and, grinning like an idiot, said, "After all these years, you've finally got a backbone! I'm so proud of you!" Sian then hugged Chrissie again, not willing to let her go. Unfortunately, she did, but only because another argument between Chris and Dena was going on in the middle of the common room, which was drawing a lot of attention.

" ... you know what, Dena, if you're into Zara that much, why don't you go and be in a relationship with her?"

"I'm not into Zara! What does that even - ?"

"Oh, come on, D! _Zara_ this and _Zara_ that! You always want to spend time with her than me! Tell me something, Dena, am I the third wheel in this relationship?"

"Oh, you're having a go at me for being the third wheel? OK, what about Kiara?"

Chris froze for a second, before he said, trying to brush it off casually, "Kiara? Pff - what does Kiara have to do with this?"

"Oh, don't make me laugh, Chris! You never bring me over to sit with her, Sian and Chrissie, even though I am your girlfriend! And when we're together and Kiara's around, you're always looking at her to see if she's - "

Dena stopped suddenly, thinking. Then dawning comprehension stole over her, her eyes widening, then her shock turned to anger, as she shook her head and said, "I don't _believe_ you, Chris Rickers! You used me as a ploy to make Kiara jealous, didn't you?"

Chris said nothing, which told Dena everything she needed to know.

"Well, you know what, Chris? You can have her, 'cause we're THROUGH!"

Dena made to turn away. Chris grabbed her wrist quickly, but Dena slapped him good and hard with her free hand, which did make him let go of her. Dena then stormed across the common room and up the stairs, pushing past Sian and Chrissie roughly, who were both watching their brother. Chris was rubbing his sore cheek as he moved to sit in one of the chairs before the fire, ignoring the stares and mutterings of everyone in the room. When the talk started to rise again and people became involved in their own discussions once more, Sian and Chrissie moved over to where Chris was and sat on either side of him.

"Hey, Chris. How're you doing?" Chrissie asked him gently.

Chris looked at her and said, "I'm OK, to be honest. We've been drifting apart for a while now, so it was only a matter of time, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," sighed Chrissie. "Me and Larry broke up tonight, too."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Chris.

"Ah, don't be," said Chrissie, shrugging. "He was trying to make me choose between him and Sian, so naturally I defended her."

Chris' face was a mixture of shock and disbelief. "You stood up for Sian?" Chris looked at Sian for confirmation, and she nodded her head eagerly. Chris chuckled and said, "Well I never thought I'd see the day when this would happen."

"I don't think any of us did, really," said Sian, and she and Chris laughed - along with Chrissie, who tried and failed to look annoyed.

Chris then looked at his sisters properly and realised that one of their group was missing. "Where's Kiara?" he asked.

Sian and Chrissie then explained to Chris how Kiara was going to try and get the memory from Beadu using Felix Felicis. When they had finished, Chris looked impressed.

"Well, I wish her luck," he muttered. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he turned to Sian and said, "I'm surprised you didn't figure that out yourself, Sian."

"Don't push it, Rickers," she growled non-threateningly, making Chris and Chrissie laugh.

"So how do you think Kiara's doing?" Chris then asked.

"Well, she's been gone longer than her other attempts. so I'd say it's going pretty good so far," said Sian.

"Either that, or she's taking a really long walk," said Chrissie.

"Still, good luck to her," said Chris. Sian and Chrissie nodded.

But it wasn't until much later, when her sisters were asleep, when Sian felt her mother's presence enter the school and knew that her mother wanted to see her that she would soo find out what the memory contained, and when they saw it nor Sian nor her mother, not even Kiara herself, would have dreamed that they would be seeing and hearing information like it.

 **AN 2: I'm not sure if I did the break-ups any justice, but I really wanted to write them out. Anyway, I'll be back next week, same day as always, and in the chapter after the next one you will start to see a little of Chris and Kiara together, which is obviously a little of the warm up to them getting together, so you have that to normal to, and therefore I am going to say no more about it. Until next week. Peace out!**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Hello, dear readers. This is more of an apology for the note I left at the bottom of the last chapter, stating that this one was going to state the start of Chris and Kiara's relationship in a way, but it's not - that's the next chapter. I'm sorry I did that, I was just so excited to share with you that Chris and Kiara are going to come together that I let my excitable heart overrule my sensible head. I changed the bottom author's note a few days ago, so check it out if you don't believe me. So next week you will definitely see the start of Chris and Kiara, but for now, enjoy this chapter.**

 **Chapter 24**

 **Horcruxes**

 **KIARA**

I could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as I crept back into the castle. The front door had remained unlocked for me, but on the third floor I met Weeves and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of my shortcuts. By the time I got up to the portrait of the Fat Lord and pulled off my Invisibility Cloak, I was not surprised to find him in a most unhelpful mood.

"What sort of time do you call this?"

"I'm really sorry - I had to go out for something important - "

"Well, the password changed at midnight, so you'll have to sleep in the corridor, won't you?"

"You're joking!" I said. "Why did it have to change at midnight?"

"That's the way it is," said the Fat Lord. "If you're angry, go and take it up with the Headmistress, she's the one who's tightened security."

"Fantastic," I said bitterly, looking around at the hard floor. "Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Crighton if she was here, because she's the one who wanted me to - "

"She is here - " said a voice behind me. "Professor Crighton returned to the school an hour ago."

Nearly Headless Nicola was gliding towards me, her head wobbling as usual upon her ruff.

"I heard it from the Bloody Baroness, who saw her arrive," said Nicola. "She appeared, according to the Baroness, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course."

"Where is she?" I said, my heart leaping.

"Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it's a favourite pastime of hers - "

"Not the Bloody Baroness, Crighton!"

"Oh - in her office," said Nicola. "I believe, from what the Baroness said, that she had some business to attend to before turning in - "

"Yeah, she has," I said, excitement blazing in my chest at the prospect of telling Crighton I had secured the memory. I wheeled about and sprinted off again, ignoring the Fat Lord who called after me.

"Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The password's still "tapeworm"!"

But I was already hurtling back along the corridor, and, within minutes, I was inside the elevator - using one of the tokens Sian had given me in case she wasn't around to place it in the slot - and was zooming around to the Headmistress' office.

"Enter," said Crighton when I knocked. She sounded exhausted but happy.

I pushed open the door. There was Crighton's office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-strewn skies beyond the windows.

Sian was there, sitting beside her mother, the two of them looking at an album of sorts when I entered. When mother and daughter looked up and saw who it was, they were both surprised to see me, the former rather more than the latter.

"Good gracious, Kiara," said Crighton in surprise. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

"Ma'am - I've got it. I've got the memory from Beadu."

I pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to Crighton and Sian. For a moment or two, both looked stunned. Then their faces split into equally wide smiles.

"Kiara, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!" said Crighton joyously.

"Nice work, kid!" said Sian, as her mother, forgetting the lateness of the hour, hurried around her desk, took the bottle with Beadu's memory in her uninjured hand and strode over to the cupboard where she kept the Pensieve.

"And now," said Crighton, placing the stone basin upon her desk and emptying the contents of the bottle into it, "now, at last, we shall see. Girls, quickly ..."

Sian and I both bowed obediently over the Pensieve and our feet left the office floor ... once again we fell through darkness and landed in Arachne Beadu's office many years before.

There was the much younger Arachne Beadu, with her thick, shiny black hair on top of her rather pointed head, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in her office, her feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallised pineapple. And there were the half a dozen teenage girls sitting around Beadu with Dizra Maliay in the midst of them, Makasha's silver and red ring gleaming on her finger.

Crighton landed beside me just as Maliay asked, "Ma'am, is it true that Professor Cheerymind is retiring?"

"Dizra, Dizra, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Beadu, wagging her finger reprovingly at Maliay, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, girl; more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Maliay smiled; the other girls laughed and cast her admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter - thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite - "

Several of the girls tittered again.

" - I confidently expect you to rise to Minister for Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple. I have _excellent_ contacts at the Ministry."

Dizra Maliay merely smiled as the others laughed again. I noticed that she was by no means the eldest of the group of girls, but that they all seemed to look at her as their leader.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, ma'am," she said when the laughter had died again. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

A couple of the girls around her smirked at each other. I was sure they were enjoying a private joke: undoubtedly what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.

"Nonsense," said Beadu briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Dizra, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

The small golden clock standing upon Beadu's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind her and she looked round.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going, girls, or we'll all be in trouble. Aakster, I want your essay by tomorrow or else it's detention."

One by one the girls filed out of the room. Beadu sat up then stood up out of her armchair and carried her empty glass over to her desk. A movement behind her made her look round; Maliay was still standing there.

"Look sharp, Dizra, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a Prefect ..."

"Ma'am, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'girl, ask away ..."

"Ma'am, I wondered what you know about ... about Horcruxes?"

Beadu stared at her, her long, thin fingers absent-mindedly caressing the stem of her wine glass.

"Project for Defence Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

But I could tell that Beadu knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.

"Not exactly, ma'am," said Maliay. "I've come across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No ... well ... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Dragon Mort that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Dizra. That's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Beadu.

"But you obviously know all about them, ma'am? I mean, a witch like you - sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously - I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could - so I just thought I'd ask - "

It was very well done, I thought, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. I, Kiara, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognise a master at work. I could tell that Maliay wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working towards this moment for weeks.

"Well," said Beadu, not looking at Maliay, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of her box of crystallised pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you and overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, ma'am," said Maliay.

Her voice was carefully controlled, but I could sense her excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Beadu, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But, of course, existence in such a form ..."

Beadu's face crumpled and I found myself remembering words I had heard the night Zira returned.

 _"I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost ... but still, I was alive."_

"... few would want it, Dizra, very few. Death would be preferable."

But Maliay's hunger was now apparent; her expression was greedy, she could no longer hide her longing.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," said Beadu uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil - the supremest act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to their advantage: they would encase the torn portion - "

"Encase? But how - ?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Beadu, shaking her head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it - do I look like a killer?"

"No, ma'am, of course not," said Maliay quickly. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to offend ..."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Beadu gruffly. "It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things ... wizards of a certain calibre have always been drawn to that aspect of magic ..."

"Yes, ma'am," said Maliay. "What I don't understand, though - just out of curiosity - I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces? I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven - ?"

"Merlin's beard, Dizra!" yelped Beadu. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case ... bad enough to divide the soul ... but to rip it into seven pieces ..."

Beadu looked deeply troubled now: she was gazing at Maliay as though she had never seen her plainly before and I could tell that she was regretting entering into the conversation at all.

"Of course," she muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic ..."

"Yes, ma'am, of course," said Maliay quickly.

"But all the same, Dizra ... keep it quiet, what I've told you - that is to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Dragon Mort, you know ... Crighton's particularly fierce about it ..."

"I won't say a word, ma'am," said Maliay and she left, but not before I glimpsed her face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when she had first found out that she was a witch, the sort of happiness that did not enhance her beautiful features, but made them, somehow, less human ...

"Thank you, Kiara," said Crighton, moving to stand between myself and Sian. "Let us go ..."

When we landed back on the office floor, Crighton led Sian to the desk and made her lean on it. Crighton then go Sian's chair from beside her own and moved it to the front beside the other chair, which she sat down on. I didn't understand what was going on until I sat next to Sian and looked at her properly: she was white, her eyes were wide and unblinking and she was shaking. I didn't blame her for how she reacted; the information was horrible.

Crighton then knelt in front of Sian and made her drink something that I could not see, but whatever it was, it worked: Sian coughed and spluttered, blinked and looked around, as if wondering where she was. Then she saw her mother in front of her, looking at her fondly, and she sighed in relief.

"Oh ... I'm so sorry, Mother," she said shakily, "but that ... that was - "

"I know, my darling, I know," said Crighton, and she held Sian tightly for a while. I didn't say anything, for I knew that that moment was only for those two. When Sian had calmed down, Crighton pulled back. Sian did look better: she had stopped shaking, her eyes weren't so bright and she had some colour back in her cheeks.

"Are you better now, _magi_?" Sian nodded. "Ready to continue?" Sian nodded again. "You sure?" Another nod. "All right, then." Crighton then flashed Sian another warm smile, kissed her forehead, stood up and went to sit behind her desk. Once she sat down, she spoke to both of us.

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time," she said. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is to go ..."

I suddenly noticed that every single one of the old headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and listening in on our conversation. A corpulent, red-nosed witch had actually taken out an ear-trumpet.

"Well, girls," said Crighton, "I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you both are right now, give or take a few months, Dizra Maliay was doing all she could to find out how to make herself immortal."

"You think she succeeded then, ma'am?" I said. "She made a Horcrux? And that's why she didn't die when she attacked me? She had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of her soul was safe?"

"A bit ... or more," said Crighton. "You heard Zira: what she particularly wanted from Arachne was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that they would be prepared to murder many times, rip their soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed Horcruxes. No book would have given her that information. As far as I know - as far, as I am sure, Zira knows - no wizard, apart from Lord Voldemort, has ever done more than tear their soul in two."

Crighton paused for a moment, marshalling her thoughts, and then said, "Four years ago, I receive what I considered certain proof that Zira had split her soul."

"Where?" I asked. "How?"

"You handed it to me, Kiara," said Crighton. "The diary, Maliay's diary, the one giving instructions on how to reopen the Chamber of Mysteries."

I don't understand, ma'am," I said.

"Well, although I did not see the Maliay who came out of the diary, what you described to me, Kiara, was a phenomenon I had never witnessed. A mere memory starting to act and think for itself? A mere memory, sapping the life out of my daughter into whose hands it had fallen? No, something much more sinister had lived inside that book ... a fragment of soul, I was almost sure of it. The diary had been a Horcrux. But this raised as many questions as it answered. What intrigued and alarmed me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon as much as a safeguard."

"I still don't understand," I said.

"Well, it worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work - in other words, the fragment of soul concealed inside it was kept safe and had undoubtedly played its part in preventing the death of its owner. But there could be no doubt that Maliay really wanted that diary read, wanted the piece of her soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that Snake-Eyes' monster would be unleashed again."

"Well, she didn't want her hard work to be wasted," I said. "She wanted people to know she was Snake-Eyes' heir, because she couldn't take credit at the time."

"Quite correct," said Crighton, nodding. "But don't you see, Kiara, that if she intended the diary to be passed to, or planted on, some future Dragon Mort student, she was being remarkably blasé about that precious fragment of her soul concealed within it. The point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Beadu explained, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they might destroy it - as indeed happened: that particular fragment of soul is no more; you and Sian both saw to that, Kiara.

"The careless way in which Zira regarded this Horcrux seemed more ominous to me. It suggested that she must have made - or been planning to make - more Horcruxes, so that the loss of her first would not be so detrimental. I did not wish to believe it, but nothing else seemed to make sense.

"Then you told me, two years later, that on the night that Zira returned to her body, she made a most illuminating and alarming statement to her Love Destroyers. _"I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality."_ That was what you told me she said, Kiara. _"Further than anybody."_ And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Love Destroyers did not. She was referring to her Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, girls, which I do not believe any other wizard - except one - has ever had. Yet it fitted: Lady Zira had seemed to grow less human with the passing years, and the transformation she had undergone seemed to me to be only explicable if her soul was mutilated beyond the realms of what we might call usual magic ..."

"So she's made herself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" I said. "Why couldn't she make herself a Mirror of Wishes, or steal one, if she was so interested in immortality?"

"Well, we know that she tried to do just that five minutes ago," said Crighton. "But there are several reasons why, I think, a Mirror of Wishes would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lady Zira.

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain their immortality. Therefore, Zira would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Mirror was stolen, she would die just like any other woman. Zira likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that she would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable. Of course she was prepared to drink it if it would take her out of the horrible part-life to which she was condemned after attacking you, Kiara, but only to regain a body. Thereafter, I am convinced, she intended to continue to rely on her Horcruxes: she would need nothing more, if she could only regain a human form. She was already immortal, you see ... or as close to immortal as any woman can be.

"But now, Kiara, armed with this information, the crucial memory you have succeeded in procuring for us, we are closer to the secret of finishing Lady Zira than anyone has ever been before. You heard her, girls: "Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have you soul in more pieces ... isn't seven he most powerfully magical number ..." _Isn't seven the most powerfully magical number._ Yes, I think the idea of a seven-part soul would greatly appeal to Lady Zira."

"She made _seven_ Horcruxes?" I said, horror-struck, while several of the portraits on the walls made similar noises of shock and outrage. "But they could be anywhere in the world - hidden - buried or invisible - "

"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem," said Crighton calmly. "But firstly, no, Kiara, not seven Horcruxes, six. The seventh part of her soul, however, maimed, resides inside her regenerated body. That was the part of her that lived a spectral existence for so many years during her exile; without that, she has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Zira must attack - the piece that lives in her body."

"But the six Horcruxes, then," I said, a little desperately, "how are we supposed to find them?"

"You are forgetting, Kiara ... you and Sian have already destroyed one of them. And I have destroyed another."

"You have?" I said eagerly.

"Yes indeed," said Crighton, and she raised her blackened, burned-looking hand. "The ring, Kiara. Makasha's ring. And a terrible curse there was upon it too. Had it not been - forgive me the lack of seemly modesty - for my own prodigious skill, and for Professor Triphorm's timely action when I returned to Dragon Mort, desperately injured, I might not have lived to tell the tale. However, a withered hand does not seem an unreasonable exchange for a seventh of Zira's soul. The ring is no longer a Horcrux."

As Crighton was talking about how she had injured her hand, out of the corner of my eye I saw Sian shift uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes downcast, but I ignored it, focusing on Crighton.

"How did you find it, Mother?" said Sian in a small voice at last, raising her head again.

"Well, as you girls now know, I have made it my business for many years to discover as much as I can about Zira's past life. I have travelled widely, visiting those places she once knew. I stumbled across the ring hidden in the ruin of the Mackay's house. It seems that once Zira had succeeded in sealing a piece of her soul inside it, she did not want to wear it any more. She hid it, protected by many powerful enchantments, in the shack where her ancestors had once lived (Marmarin having been carted off to Azkaban, of course), never guessing that I might one day take the trouble to visit the ruin, or that I might be keeping an eye open for traces of magical concealment.

"However, we should not congratulate ourselves to heartily. You destroyed he diary and I the ring, but if we are right in our theory of a seven-part soul, four Horcruxes remain."

"And they could be anything?" I said. "They could be old tin cans or, I dunno, empty potion bottles ...?"

"You are thinking of Portkeys, Kiara, which must be ordinary objects, easy to overlook. But Lady Zira use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard her own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have shown you. Lady Zira liked to collect trophies, and she preferred objects with a powerful magical history. Her pride, her belief in her own superiority, her determination to carve for herself a startling place in wizarding history; these things suggest to me that Zira would have chosen her Horcruxes with some care, favouring objects worthy of the honour."

"The diary wasn't that special," I muttered. Sian nodded in agreement.

"The diary, as you have said yourself, is proof that she was the heir of Snake-Eyes. I am sure that Zira considered it of stupendous importance."

"So, the other Horcruxes?" I said. "Do you think you know where they are, ma'am?"

"I can only guess," said Crighton. "For the reasons I have already given, I believe that Lady Zira would objects that, in themselves, have a certain grandeur. I have therefore trawled back through Zira's past to see if I can find evidence that such artefacts have disappeared around her."

"The locket!" I said loudly. "Badger-Stripes' cup!"

"Yes," said Crighton, smiling. "I would be prepared to bet - perhaps not my other hand - but a couple of fingers, that they became Horcruxes three and four. The remaining two, assuming again that she created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Badger-Stripes and Snake-Eyes, she set out to track down objects owned by Lion-Heart and Raven-Wings. Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Zira's imagination. I cannot answer for whether she managed to find anything of Raven-Wings'. I am confident, however, that the only known relic of Lion-Heart remains safe."

Crighton pointed her blackened fingers to the wall behind her, where a ruby-encrusted sword reposed within a glass case.

"Do you think that's really why she wanted to come back to teach at Dragon Mort, ma'am?" I said. "To try and find something from one of the other founders?"

"My thoughts precisely," said Crighton. "But unfortunately, that does not advance us much further, for she was turned away, or so I believe, without the chance to search the school. I am forced to conclude that she never fulfilled her ambition of collecting four founders' objects. She definitely had two - she may have found three - that is the best we can do for now."

"Even if she got something of Raven-Wings' or Lion-Heart's, that leaves a sixth Horcrux," I said, counting on my fingers. "Unless she got both?"

"I don't think so," said Crighton. "I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behaviour of the snake, Namzo?"

"The snake?" I said, sounding as startled as Sian looked. "You can use animals as Horcruxes?"

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," said Crighton, "because to confide something to part of your soul that can think or move for itself is obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are correct, Zira was still at least one Horcrux short of her goal to six when she found you in the Pride Lands that day and attempted to kill you.

"She seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. She believed that in killing you, she was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. She believed she was making herself invincible. I am sure that she was intending to make her final Horcrux with your death.

"As we know, she failed. After an interval of some years, however, she used Namzo to kill an old Muggle woman, and it might then have occurred to her to turn her into her last Horcrux. He underlines the Snake-Eyes connection, which enhances Lady Zira's mystique. I think she is perhaps as fond of him as she can be of anything; she certainly likes to keep him close and she seems to have an unusual amount of control over him, even for a Parshydamouth."

"So," I said, "the diary's gone, the ring's gone. The cup, the locket and the snake are still intact and you think there might be a Horcrux that was once Raven-Wings' or Lion-Heart's?"

"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," said Crighton, bowing her head.

"So ... are you still looking for them, ma'am? Is that where you've been going when you'd been leaving the school?"

"Correct," said Crighton. "I have been looking for a very long time. I think ... perhaps ... I may be close to finding another one. There are hopeful signs."

"And if you do," I said quickly, "can I come with you to help get rid of it?"

"Oh, and can I come, too?" Sian asked eagerly. I looked at her, surprised at how eager she was. When she saw me looking, she said, "What? I don't want to miss out on the opportunity to destroy another Horcrux."

Crighton looked at the two of us very intently for a moment before saying, "Yes, I think so."

"We can?" Sian and I said together: she sounded excited, whereas I was more taken aback.

"Oh yes," said Crighton, smiling slightly. "I think you have both earned the right."

I felt my heart lift. I felt relieved that I did not hear words of caution and protection for once. The headmasters and headmistresses around the walls seemed less impressed by Crighton's decision; I saw a few of them shaking their heads and Philomena Naenia actually snorted.

"Does Zira know when a Horcrux is destroyed, ma'am? Can she feel it?" I asked, ignoring the portraits.

"A very interesting question, Kiara. I believe not. I believe that Zira is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of herself have been detached for so long, she does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the point of death, she might be aware of her loss ... but she was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been destroyed until she forced the truth out of Narissa Malty. When Zira discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that her anger was terrible to behold."

"But I thought she meant Narissa Malty to smuggle it into Dragon Mort?"

"Yes she did, years ago, when she was sure she would be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Narissa was supposed to wait for Zira's say-so, and she never received it, for Zira vanished shortly after giving her the diary. No doubt she thought that Narissa would not dare do anything with the Horcrux other than guard it carefully, but she was counting too much upon Narissa's fear of a mistress who had been gone for years and whom Narissa believed dead. Of course, Narissa did not know what the diary really was. I understand that Zira had told her the diary would cause the Chamber of Mysteries to reopen, because it was cleverly enchanted. Had Narissa known she held a portion of her mistress' soul in her hands she would undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence - but instead she went ahead and carried out the old plan for her own ends: by planting the diary on one of my daughters," (Crighton's face crumpled with pain for a moment at the memory, as did Sian's) "she hoped to discredit my husband, have me thrown out of Dragon Mort and get rid of a highly incriminating object in one stroke. Ah, poor Narissa ... what with Zira's fury about the fact that she threw away the Horcrux for her own gain, and the fiasco at the Ministry last year, I would not be surprised if she is secretly glad to be safe in Azkaban at the moment."

I sat in thought for a moment, then asked, "So if all of her Horcruxes are destroyed, Zira could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so," said Crighton. "Without her Horcruxes, Zira will be a mortal woman with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while her soul may be damaged beyond repair, her brain and her magical power remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a witch like Zira, even without her Horcruxes."

"But I haven't got uncommon skill and power," I said, before I could stop myself.

"Yes, you have," said Crighton firmly. "You have a power that Zira has never had. You can - "

"I know!" I said impatiently. "I can love!" It was with difficulty that I stopped myself adding, "Bid deal!"

"Yes, Kiara, you can love," said Crighton, who looked as though she knew perfectly well what I had just refrained from saying, "which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Kiara."

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have "power the Scarlet Lady knows not", it just means - love?" I asked, feeling a little let down.

"Yes - just love," said Crighton. "But Kiara, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Zira made it so. I told you this at the end of last year. Zira singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to her - and in doing so, she _made_ you the person who would be most dangerous to her!"

"But it comes to the same - "

"No, it doesn't!" said Crighton, sounding impatient now. Pointing at me with her black, withered hand, she said, "You are setting too much store by the prophecy!"

"But," I spluttered, "but you said the prophecy means - "

"If Zira had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?"

"But," I said, bewildered, "but last year, you said one of us would have to kill the other - "

"Kiara, Kiara, only because Zira made a grave error, and acted on Professor Crystals' words! If Zira had never been the reason that you were separated from your parents, would she have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge? Of course not! If she had not killed your brother, Kopa, would your father have given you a protection she could not penetrate? Of course not, Kiara! Don't you see? Zira herself created her worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realise that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Zira is no different! Always she was on the lookout for the one who would challenge her. She heard the prophecy and leapt into action, with the resul that she not only handpicked the woman most likely to finish her, she handed her uniquely deadly weapons!"

"But - "

"It is essential that you understand this!" said Crighton, standing up and striding about the room, her glittering robes swooshing in her wake; I had never seen her so agitated. "By attempting to kill you, Zira herself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me, and gave her the tools for the job! It is Zira's fault that you were able to see into her thoughts, her ambitions, that you even understood the reptilelike language in which she gives orders, and yet, Kiara, despite your privileged insight into Zira's world (which, incidentally, is a gift any of her Love Destroyers would kill to have), you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Zira's followers!"

"Of course I haven't!" I said indignantly. "She killed my brother and separated me from my parents!"

"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" said Crighton loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Zira's! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart's desire, and it showed you the only way to thwart Lady Zira, and not immortality or riches. Kiara, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror? Zira should have known then what she was dealing with, but she did not!

"But she knows it now. You have flitted into Lady Zira's mind without damage to yourself, but she cannot possess you without enduring mortal agony, as she discovered in the Ministry. I do not think she understands why, Kiara, but she was in such a hurry to mutilate her own soul, she never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole."

"But, ma'am," I said, making valiant efforts not to sound argumentative, "it all comes down to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to try and kill her, or - "

"Got to?" said Crighton. "Of course you've got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you've tried! The three of us know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Zira now? Think!"

I watched Crighton striding up and down in front of me, and I thought. I thought of my parents, my little brother, Kion, and my grandmothers, and how much I wanted to protect them. I thought of my brother, Kopa. I thought of Pumbaa. I thought of Georgia Diggs. I thought of all the terrible deeds I knew Lady Zira had done. As I thought of all this, a flame seemed to leap inside my chest, searing my throat.

"I'd want her finished," I said quietly. "And I'd want to do it."

"Of course you would!" cried Crighton. "You see, the prophecy does not _mark you as her equal_ ... in other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Zira continues to set store by the prophecy. She will continue to hunt you ... which makes it certain, really, that - "

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," I said. "Yes."

But I understood at last what Crighton had been trying to tell me. It was, I thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Crighton knew, and Sian knew - and so do I, I thought, with a rush of fierce pride, and so do my parents and my grandmothers - that there was all the difference in the world, and as long as I had my friends fighting beside me, I knew, somehow, that my fighting chances were higher and stronger than ever before.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: See bottom for more notes.**

 **Chapter 25**

 **Sectumsempra**

 **KIARA**

Exhausted but delighted with my night's work, I told Chris and Chrissie everything that had happened during next morning's Charms lesson (having first cast the _Muffliato_ spell upon those nearest us), with a little help from Sian, of course. Chris, Sian - who had not heard how I had got the memory until then - and Chrissie were all satisfyingly impressed by the way I had wheedled the memory out of Beadu, and Chris and Chrissie were both awed when I told them about Zira's Horcruxes and Crighton's promise to take Sian and I along, should she find another one.

"Wow," said Chrissie, when Sian and I had finally finished telling she and Chris everything; Chrissie was waving her wand very vaguely in the direction of the ceiling without paying the slightest bit of attention to what she was doing; Chris, though gazing impressively at me, managed to have some control over his wand, and lowered it. "Wow. You two are actually going to go with Ma ... and try and destroy ... wow."

"Chrissie, you're making it snow," said Sian patiently, grabbing her wrist and redirecting her wand away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large white flakes had started to fall. Larry Brown, I noticed, glared at Sian from a neighbouring table and Sian immediately let go of Chrissie's arm.

"Oh yeah," said Chrissie, looking down at her shoulders in vague surprise. "Sorry ... looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now ..."

She brushed some of the fake snow off Sian's shoulder. Larry growled at her. Chrissie looked immediately guilty and turned her back on him.

"We split up," she told me out of the corner of her mouth. "Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Sian. Obviously he couldn't see you, so he thought it had just been the two of us."

"Ah," I said. "Well - you don't mind it's over, do you?"

"No," Chrissie admitted. "It was pretty bad while he was yelling - well, at Sian more than me, who decided to stand up for me ... until he started having a go at Sian, and then I started yelling at him."

I looked at Chrissie, shocked. "You actually stood up for yourself?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yep. Who would've seen the day when Chrissie got a backbone?" said Chris.

"To be honest, I thought this day would never come," said Sian, shaking her head.

"Why are you so surprised that I stood up for someone?" asked Chrissie.

"Er, probably because Sian always stands up for you," said Chris.

"Exactly," said Sian. "Plus, we've always seen you as a coward in situations like those that we just naturally assumed that you would die that way."

Chris laughed. Chrissie glared at both of them.

Sian's smile faded as she looked round. "Well, it was a bad night for romance all round. Chris and Dena split up too, Kiara."

I thought there was a rather knowing look in her eye as she told me that, but she could not possibly know that my heart was lifting, as though a great weight had been released from it, and my insides were dancing in celebration, but I kept my cool and asked, "How come?"

I saw Chris, Sian and Chrissie freeze for a moment, before Chris said, "Oh, something really silly ... she was always trying to help me through the portrait hole, like I couldn't climb in myself ... I'm not a child, you know!"

I thought there was something odd about the way they were acting, but I brushed it aside; I also brushed aside the happiness I felt at Chris breaking up with Dena, because I knew that Chris needed a friend, so I said, "I'm sorry you two broke up, Chris. Are you OK?"

Chris looked at me, smiled and said, "Yeah, I'm OK, Kiara. To be honest with you, we've been rocky for ages, so I'm not too gutted about our break up."

I glanced over at Dena on the other side of the classroom. Her eyes were red and she looked hurt.

"Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?" said Sian.

"What d'you mean?" I said quickly.

"The Quidditch team," said Sian. "If Chris and Dena aren't speaking ... "

"Oh - oh yeah," I said.

"Winds," said Chrissie in a warning tone. The tiny little Charms mistress was bobbing her way towards us and Sian was the only one who had managed to turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep crimson liquid, whereas the contents of mine, Chris and Chrissie's were still murky brown.

"Now, now, girls and boy," squeaked Professor Winds reproachfully. "A little less talk, a little more action ... let me see you try ..."

Together we raised our wands, concentrating with all our might, and pointed them at our flasks. My vinegar turned to ice; Chris' turned to the dark purple colour of summer fruits juice; and Chrissie's flask exploded.

"Yes ... for homework ..." said Professor Winds, re-emerging from under the table and pulling shards of glass out of the top of her hat, _"practice."_

We had one of our rare joint free periods after Charms and walked back to the common room together. Chris and Chrissie both seemed to be positively light-hearted about the end of their relationships with Dena and Larry, and Sian seemed cheery, too, though when asked what she was grinning about she simply said, "It's a nice day." The three of them did not notice that there was a fierce battle raging inside my brain, which was why I did not look at Chris once on the way back to the common room:

 _He's Chrissie's brother._

But he's ditched Dena!

 _He's still Chrissie's brother._

I'm her best mate!

 _That'll make it worse._

If I talked to her first -

 _She'd hit you._

What if I don't care?

 _She's your best mate!_

I barely noticed that we were climbing through the portrait hole into the sunny common room, and only vaguely registered the small group of seventh-years clustered together there, until Sian cried, "Keith! You're back! Are you OK?"

I stared: it was indeed Keith Ball, looking completely healthy and surrounded by his jubilant friends.

"I'm really well!" he said happily. "They let me out of St Mungo's on Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. Leon was just telling me about MacGuire and the last match, Kiara ..."

"Yeah," I said, "well, now you're back and Chrissie's fit, we'll have a decent chance of thrashing Raven-Wings, which means we could still be in the running for the Cup. Listen, Keith ..."

I had to put the question to him at once; my curiosity even drove Chris temporarily from my brain. I dropped my voice as Keith's friends started gathering up their things; apparently they were late for Transfiguration.

" ... that necklace ... can you remember who gave it to you now?"

"No," said Keith, shaking his head ruefully. "Everyone's been asking me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the mens' in the Flying Owls."

"You definitely went into the bathroom, then?" said Sian.

"Well, I know I pushed open the door," said Keith, "so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory's a blank until about two weeks ago in St Mungo's. Listen, I'd better go, I wouldn't put it past Darbus to give me lines even if it is my first day back ..."

He caught up his bag and books and hurried after his friends, leaving Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I to sit down at a window table and ponder what he had told us.

"So it must have been a boy or a man who gave Keith the necklace," said Sian, "to be in the mens' bathroom."

"Or someone who looked like a boy or a man," I said. "Don't forget, there was a cauldronful of Polyjuice Potion at Dragon Mort. We know some of it got stolen ..."

In my mind's eye I watched a parade of Crate's and Gabber's prance past, all transformed into boys.

"I think I'm going to take another swig of Felix," I said, "and have a go at the Room of Needs again."

"That would be a complete waste of potion," said Sian flatly, putting down the copy of _Spellman's Syllabry_ she had just taken out of her bag. "Luck can only get you so far, Kiara. The situation with Beadu was different: you always had the ability to persuade her, you just needed to tweak the circumstances a bit. Luck isn't enough to get you through an enchantment, though. Don't go wasting the rest of that potion! You and I'll need all the luck we can get if Ma takes us along with her ..." She dropped her voice to a whisper.

"Couldn't we make some more?" Chrissie asked me, ignoring Sian. "It'd be great to have a stock of it ... have a look in the book ..."

I pulled my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of my bag and looked up Felix Felicis.

"Blimey, it's seriously complicated," I said, running an eye down the list of ingredients. "And it takes six months ... you've got to let it stew ..."

"Typical," said Chrissie.

I was about to put my book away again when I noticed the corner of a page folded down; turning to it, I saw the _Sectumsempra_ spell, captioned "For Enemies", that I had marked a few weeks previously. I had still not found out what it did, mainly because I did not want to test it around Sian, but I was considering trying it out on MacGuire next time I came up behind him unawares (and as much as I didn't like MacGuire, I'm glad that I didn't use the spell. The reason for this will be explained shortly).

The only person who was not particularly pleased to see Keith Ball back at school was Dena Wright, because she would no longer be required to fill his place as Chaser. She took the blow stoically enough when I told her, merely hmming and shrugging, but I had the distinct feeling as I walked away that Dena and Zara were muttering mutinously behind my back.

The following fortnight saw the best Quidditch practices I have ever known as Captain. My team was so pleased to be rid of MacGuire, so glad to have Keith back at last, that they were flying extremely well.

Chris really did not seem at all upset about the break-up with Dena; on the contrary, he was the life and soul of the team. His imitations of Chrissie anxiously bobbing up and down in front of the goalposts as the Quaffle sped towards her, or of me bellowing orders at MacGuire before being knocked out cold, kept us all highly amused. Laughing with everyone else gave me an innocent reason to look at Chris; I had received several more Bludger injuries during practice because I had not been keeping my eyes on the Snitch.

The battle still raged inside my head: Chris or Chrissie? Sometimes I thought that the post-Larry Chrissie might not mind too much if I asked Chris out, but then I remembered Chrissie's expression when she had seen him kissing Dena, and I was sure that Chrissie would consider it treachery if I so much as held his hand ...

Yet I could not help myself talking to Chris much more than usual, laughing with him, walking back from practice with him instead of Chrissie; however much my conscience ached, I found myself wondering how best to get him on his own: it would have been ideal if Beadu had given another of her little parties, for Chrissie would not be around - unfortunately, Beadu seemed to have given them up. Once or twice I considered asking for Sian's help, but I did not think I could stand seeing the smug look on her face; I thought I caught it sometimes when Sian spotted me staring at Chris, or laughing at his jokes. And to complicate matters, I had the nagging worry that if I didn't do it, somebody else was sure to ask Chris out soon: I often noticed girls looking at him, waving at him and casting smiles in his direction, which made me think that him being with Dena had made him popular - well, his looks at least, anyway.

All in all, the temptation to take another gulp of Felix Felicis was becoming stronger by the day, for surely this was a case for, as Sian put it, "tweaking the circumstances"? The balmy days slid gently through May, and Chrissie seemed to be there at my shoulder every time I saw Chris. I found myself hoping for a stroke of luck that would somehow cause Chrissie to realise that nothing would make her happier than her best friend and her brother falling for each other and to leave us alone together for longer than a few seconds. There seemed no chance of either while the final Quidditch game of the season was looming; Chrissie wanted to talk tactics with me all the time and had little thought for anything else.

Chrissie was not unique in this respect; interest in the Lion-Heart - Raven-Wings game was running extremely high throughout the school, for the match would decide the championship, which was still wide open. If Lion-Heart beat Raven-Wings by a margin of three hundred points (a tall order, and yet I had never known my team fly better) then we would win the championship. If we won by less than three hundred points, we would come second to Raven-Wings; if we lost by a hundred points we would be third behind Badger-Stripes and if we lost by more than a hundred, we would be in fourth place and nobody, I thought, would ever, ever let me forget that it had been I who had captained Lion-Heart to our first bottom-of-the-table defeat in two centuries.

The run-up to this crucial match had all the usual features: members of rival houses attempting to intimidate opposing teams in the corridors; unpleasant chants about individual players being rehearsed as we passed; the team members ourselves either swaggering around enjoying all the attention or else dashing into bathrooms between classes to throw up (I did not do either of these things, just so you know). Somehow, the game had become inextricably linked in my mind with success or failure in my plans for Chris. I could not help feeling that if we won by more than three hundred points, the scenes of euphoria and a nice loud after-match party might be just as good as a hearty swig of Felix Felicis.

In the midst of all my preoccupations I had not forgotten my other ambition: finding out what Malty was up to in the Room of Needs. I was still checking the Scallywag's Map and, as I was often unable to locate Malty on it, I deduced that Malty was still spending plenty of time within the Room. Although I was losing hope that I would ever succeed in getting inside the Room, I attempted it whenever I was in the vicinity, but no matter how I reworded my request, the wall remained firmly doorless.

A few days before the match against Raven-Wings, I found myself walking down to dinner alone from the common room, Chrissie having rushed off into a nearby bathroom to throw up again, Sian having dashed off to see Professor Wessex about a mistake she thought she might have made in her last Ancient Runes essay, and Chris was finishing off his Arithmancy essay. I made my usual detour along the seventh-floor corridor, checking the Scallywag's Map as I went. For a moment I could not find Malty anywhere, so I assumed that she must indeed be inside the Room of Needs again, but then I saw Malty's tiny, labelled dot standing in a girls' bathroom on the floor below, accompanied, not by Crate or Gabber, but by Old Moany.

I only stopped staring at this unlikely coupling when I walked right into a suit of armour. The loud crash brought me out of my reverie; hurrying from the scene lest Match should turn up, I dashed down the marble staircase and along the passageway below. Outside the bathroom, I pressed my ear against the door. I couldn't hear anything. I very quietly pushed the door open.

Dani Malty was standing with her back to the door, her hands clutching either side of the sink, her white-blonde head bowed.

"Don't," crooned Old Moany's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't ... tell me what's wrong ... I can help you ..."

"No one can help me," said Malty. Her whole body was shaking. "I can't do it ... I can't ... it won't work ... and unless I do it soon ... she says she'll kill me ..."

And I realised, with a shock so huge it seemed to root me to the spot, that Malty was crying - actually crying - tears streaming down her pale face into the grimy basin. Malty gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw me staring at her over her shoulder.

Malty wheeled round, drawing her wand. Instinctively, I pulled out my own. Malty's hex missed me by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside me; I threw myself sideways, thought _Levicorpus!_ and I flicked my wand, but Malty blocked the jinx and raised her wand for another -

"No! No! Stop it!" pleaded Old Moany, his voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang and the bin behind me exploded; I attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malty's ear and smashed the cistern beneath Old Moany, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere, and I slipped over, as Malty, her face contorted, cried, "Cruci- "

"SECTUMSPEMPA!" I bellowed from the floor, waving my wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Malty's face and chest as though she had been slashed with an invisible sword. She staggered backwards and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a great splash, her wand falling from her limp right hand.

"No - " I gasped.

Slipping and staggering, I got to my feet and plunged towards Malty, whose face was now shining scarlet, her white hands scrabbling at her blood-soaked chest.

"No - I didn't - "

I did not know what I was saying; I fell to my knees beside Malty, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of her own blood. Old Moany let out a deafening scream.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

The door banged open behind me and I looked up, terrified: Triphorm had burst into the room, her face livid. Pushing me roughly aside, she knelt over Malty, drew her wand and traced it over the deep wounds my curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood seemed to ease; Triphorm wiped the residue from Malty's face and repeated her spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.

I was still watching, horrified by what I had done, barely aware that I too was soaked in blood and water. Old Moany was still sobbing and wailing overhead. When Triphorm had performed her counter-curse for the third time, she half-lifted Malty into a standing position.

"You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that ... come ..."

She supported Malty across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, "And you, Pride-Lander ... you wait here for me."

It did not occur to me for a second to disobey. I stood up slowly, shaking, and looked down at the wet floor. There were bloodstains floating like crimson flowers across its surface. I could not even find it in myself to tell Old Moany to be quiet, as he continued to wail and sob with increasingly evident enjoyment.

Triphorm returned ten minutes later. She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

"Go," she said to Moany and he swooped back into his toilet at once, leaving a ringing silence behind him.

"I didn't mean it to happen," I said at once. My voice echoed in the cold, watery space. "I didn't know what that spell did."

But Triphorm ignored this.

"Apparently I underestimated you, Pride-Lander," she said quietly. "Who would have thought you knew such Dark magic? Who taught you that spell?"

"I - read it somewhere."

"Where?"

"It was - a library book," I invented wildly. "I can't remember what it was call- "

"Liar," said Triphorm. My throat went dry. I knew what Triphorm was going to do and I had never been able to prevent it ...

The bathroom seemed to shimmer before my eyes; I struggled to block out all thought, but try as I might, the Half-Blood Princess' copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ swam hastily to the forefront of my mind ...

And then I was staring at Triphorm again, in the midst of that wrecked, soaked bathroom. I stared into Triphorm's icy-blue eyes, hoping against hope that Triphorm had not seen what I feared, but -

"Bring me your schoolbag," said Triphorm softly, "and all of your schoolbooks. _All_ of them. Bring them here to me. Now!"

I knew that there was no point in arguing, so I turned on my heel at once and splashed out of the bathroom. Once in the corridor, I broke into a run towards Lion-Heart Tower. Most people were walking the other way; they gaped at me drenched in water and blood, but I answered none of the questions they fired at me as I ran past.

I felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage. Many questions formed in my head as I ran: what had the Princess been thinking to copy such a spell into her book? And what would happen when Triphorm saw it? Would she tell Beadu - my stomach churned - how I had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would she confiscate or destroy the book that had taught me so much ... the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? I could not let that happen ... I could not ...

"Where've you - ? Why're you soaking - ? Is that _blood_?"

Chrissie was standing at the top of the stairs, looking bewildered at the sight of me.

"I need your book," I panted. "Your Potions book. Quick ... give it to me ..."

"But what about the Half-Blood - ?"

"I'll explain later!"

Chrissie pulled her copy of _Advance Potion-Making_ out of her bag and handed it over; I sprinted off past her and back to the common room. There, I seized my schoolbag, ignoring the amazed looks of several people who had already finished their dinner, I threw myself back out of the portrait hole and hurtled off along the seventh-floor corridor.

I skidded to a halt beside the tapestry of clubbing ogres, closed my eyes and began to walk.

 _I need a place to hide my book ... I need a place to hide my book ... I need a place to hide my book ..._

Three times I walked up and down in front of the stretch of blank wall. When I opened my eyes, there it was: the door to the Room of Needs. I wrenched it open, flung myself inside and slammed it shut.

I gasped. Despite my haste, my panic, my fear of what awaited me back in the bathroom, I could not help but be overawed by what I was looking at. I was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what I knew must be the objects hidden by generations of Dragon Mort inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt burned of graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover half-heartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon egg shells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several swords and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

I hurried forwards into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. I turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost in the previous year, finally pausing beside a large cupboard which seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface. I opened one of the cupboard's creaking doors: it had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long-since died; its skeleton had five legs. I stuffed the Half-Blood Princess' book behind the cage and slammed the door. I paused for a moment, my heart thumping horribly, and as I gazed around at the clutter, a thought struck me ... would I be able to find this spot again, amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped bust of an ugly old witch from on top of a nearby crate, I stood it on top of the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statue's head to make it more distinctive, then I sprinted back through the alleyways of hidden junk as fast as I could go, back to the door, back out onto the corridor, where I slammed the door behind me and it turned at once back into the stone.

I ran flat out towards the bathroom on the floor below, cramming Chrissie's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ into my bag as I did so. A minute later, I was back in front of Triphorm, who held out her hand wordlessly for my schoolbag. I handed it over, panting, a searing pain in my chest, and waited.

One by one Triphorm extracted my books and examined them. Finally the only book left was the Potions book, which she looked at very carefully before speaking.

"This is your copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , is it, Pride-Lander?"

"Yes," I said, still breathing hard.

"You're quite sure of that, are you, Pride-Lander?"

"Yes," I said, with a touch more defiance.

"This is the copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"Then why," said Triphorm, "does it have the name "Christy Daizin" written inside the front cover?"

My heart missed a beat.

"That's my nickname," I said.

"Your nickname," repeated Triphorm.

"Yeah ... that's what my friends call me," I said.

"I understand what a nickname is," said Triphorm. Her cold, icy-blue eyes bore once more into mine; I tried not to look into them. _Close your mind ... close your mind ..._ but I had never learned how to do it properly ...

"Do you know what I think, Pride-Lander?" said Triphorm, very quietly. "I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Pride-Lander?"

"I - I don't agree, ma'am," I said, still refusing to look into Triphorm's eyes.

"Well, we shall see how you feel after your detention," said Triphorm. "Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Pride-Lander. My office."

"But, ma'am ..." I said, looking up desperately. "Quidditch ... the last match of the - "

"Ten o'clock," whispered Triphorm, with a smile that showed her yellow teeth. "Poor Lion-Heart ... fourth place this year, I fear ..."

And she left the bathroom without another word, leaving me to stare into the cracked mirror, feeling sicker, I was sure, than Chrissie had ever felt in her life.

"I won't say "I told you so"," said Sian, an hour later in the common room.

"Leave it, Sian," said Chrissie angrily.

I had never made it to dinner; I had no appetite at all. I had just finished telling Chris, Sian and Chrissie what had happened, not that there seemed to have been much need. The news had travelled very fast: apparently Old Moany had take it upon himself to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to tell the story; Malty had already been visited in the hospital wing by Parry Parker, who had lost no time in vilifying me far and wide; Keziah Rea-Bradley had not yet been to visit her cousin, but had come to me instead, and once Sian let me know she was out there, I went to face her. Naturally, Keziah was furious and demanded to know why I did it. I told her that Malty was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on me and that I was trying to defend myself, stating that if I had known what the spell did I wouldn't have dared used it on her cousin, or anyone else for that matter. I then told Keziah that I was truly sorry for what I had done, hoped that we were still friends and hoped that she would forgive me. Keziah studied me long and hard for a few moments, then told me that we were still friends, but that she would never forgive me for what I did to her cousin, before she turned around and walked away.

Meanwhile, Triphorm had told the staff precisely what had happened: I had been called out of the common room once again to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the company of Professor Darbus this time, who had told me I was lucky not to have been expelled and that she supported whole-heartedly Triphorm's punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term.

"I told you there was something wrong with that Princess person," Sian said, evidently unable to stop herself. "And I was right, wasn't I?"

"No, I don't think you were," I said stubbornly.

I was having a bad enough time without Sian lecturing me: the looks on the Lion-Heart team's faces when I had told them I would not be able to play on Saturday had been the worst punishment of all for me. I felt Chris' eyes on me, but I did not meet them; I did not want to see disappointment or anger there. I had just told him that he would be playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dena would be rejoining the team as Chaser in his place. Perhaps, if we won, Chris and Dena would make up during the post-match euphoria ... the thought went through me like an icy knife ...

"Kiara," said Sian, "how can you still stick up for that book when that spell - "

"Will you stop harping on about the book!" I snapped. "The Princess only copied it out! It's not like she was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, she was making a note of something that had been used against her!"

"I don't believe this," said Sian. "You're actually defending - "

"I'm not defending what I did!" I said quickly. "I wish I hadn't done it, and not just because I've got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn't've used a spell like that, not even on Malty, but you can't blame the Princess, she hadn't written "Try this out, it's really good" - she was just making notes for herself, wasn't she, not for anyone else ..."

"Are you telling me," said Sian, "that you're going to go back - ?"

"And get the book? Yeah, I am," I said forcefully. "Listen, without the Princess I'd never have won the Felix Felicis. I'd never have known how to save Chrissie from poisoning. I'd never have - "

" - got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don't deserve," said Sian nastily.

"Give it a rest, Sian!" said Chris, and I was so amazed, so grateful, that I looked up. "We know that Kiara did a bad thing, but you don't need to go breathing down her neck like you always do whenever she or one of us does something wrong; can't you see she feels guilty enough as it is? And by the sound of it Malty was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, so you should be glad Kiara had something good up her sleeve!"

"Well, of course I'm glad Kiara wasn't cursed!" said Sian, clearly stung. "But you can't call that _Sectumsempra_ spell good, Rickers, look where it's landed her! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match - "

"Oh, don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch," snapped Chris, "you'll only embarrass yourself. So for once in your life, sister, why don't you back off?"

Sian looked stunned, staring at Chris as though she had just seen him for the first time. Her eyes flickered quickly to me before landing on Chris' face again, and I thought I saw a small flicker of amusement cross her features, and then, without saying a word, she turned away from him. Chris glared at her and looked in the opposite direction.

Chrissie and I stared: Chris and Sian, who had always got on remarkably well for brother and sister (well, apart from that time during our third year when he and Chrissie were both convinced that Sian's cat, Lucifer, had killed their beloved pets), were now angry with each other. But what surprised us more was Sian not saying a word, no comeback, no argument, nothing. Chrissie looked nervously at me, then snatched up a book at random and hid behind it, just as Chris got up and stalked across the room to the stairs leading to the dormitories. Wanting to thank him, I got up and followed.

He was slightly ahead of me and had no idea that I was following him. So, halfway up, I decided to get his attention.

"Chris, wait!" He turned around, looking at me curiously. I ran until two steps separated us. "Back there ... what you said ... no one's ever stood up for me like that before ... why did you - ?"

"Because you've already been given enough grief today as it is," Chris said gently.

"But ... aren't you angry with me?" I asked, surprised. "About Quidditch - "

"Kiara, there are more important things than Quidditch. Don't get me wrong, I want to win," he added quickly. "I do, but I'm wise enough to know that Quidditch is just a game, and we can win many more games if we don't win this one. And as for being angry with you ... I don't think I can be for what you did today. Disappointed, yes, but not angry. And I think it's about time that someone stood up for you like I did ... isn't it?"

Chris' forest-green eyes were gazing at me so gently, so intently, that it took all of my strength to nod my head. Chris then climbed down the two steps so that we were on the same stair, and I had to move slightly and stand against one of the walls in order to make room for Chris. Our eyes were still locked on each others, and as Chris searched my face, I felt my heart begin to speed up as the colour rushed to my cheeks. I stood there, my back against the wall, watching him. I then saw his hand coming slowly towards me, and when he touched my cheek, both of them burned in the best way, even as my heart glowed, butterflies started fluttering excitedly in my stomach and electricity shot through me. My eyelids fluttered closed as I melted into his touch, and my heart leapt for joy that this was happening. I caught his scent of sandalwood, which I took it to come from his wood carvings, mixed with pine and fresh berries coming closer to me, and then I heard him whisper huskily, "Kiara ..."

"Chris," I moaned, as our noses rubbed against each other and our breath mingled together. I felt his lips lightly brush against mine, setting my entire body on fire ... I opened my mouth slowly -

Someone laughed from the common room below, breaking the spell: Chris and I jumped apart, our breathing heavy. I looked at Chris, and as he looked at me, I knew that the moment was over.

"Goodnight, Kiara," he said shakily, before he ran up to the boys' dormitories.

I stood there for I don't know how long, waiting for my heart to stop racing. As soon as my heart was beating a regular rhythm again, I climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories, having no wish to go back to the common room. Once I was in my dormitory, I got into bed but stayed awake for a long while, thinking about Chris and that almost-kiss we shared reliving every moment in my mind. These thoughts followed me into my dreams, imagining what would have happened if Chris and I hadn't been interrupted, and I woke the following morning feeling very cheerful.

Alas, my light-heartedness was short-lived. I endured many Snake-Eyes taunts the next day, not to mention much anger from my fellow Lion-Hearts, who were most unhappy that their Captain had got herself banned from the final match of the season. I also received a letter from my father, telling me how disappointed he and my mother were in me, and that they both agreed in the punishment Triphorm had picked for me, adding that they couldn't believe what I had done and hoped that they would never hear me doing anything like that ever again. By Saturday morning, whatever I might have told Sian, I would have gladly exchanged all the Felix Felicis in the world to be walking down to the Quidditch pitch with Chris, Chrissie and the others. It was almost unbearable for me to turn away from the mass of students streaming out into the sunshine, all of them wearing rosettes and hats and brandishing banners and scarves, to descend the stone steps into the dungeons and walk until the distant sounds of the crowd were quite obliterated, knowing that I would not be able to hear a word of commentary, or a cheer or groan.

"Ah, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm, when I knocked on her door and entered the unpleasantly familiar office that Triphorm, despite teaching floors above now, had not vacated; it was as dimly lit as ever, and the same slimy dead objects were suspended in coloured potions all around the walls. Ominously, there were many cobwebbed boxes piled on a table where I was clearly supposed to sit; they had an aura of tedious, hard and pointless work about them.

"Mr Match has been looking for someone to clear out these files," said Triphorm softly. "They are the records of other Dragon Mort wrongdoers and their punishments. Where the ink had grown faint, or the cards have suffered damage from mice, we would like you to copy out the crimes and punishments afresh and, making sure that they are in alphabetical order, replace them in boxes. You will not use magic."

"Right, Professor," I said, with as much contempt as I could put into the last three syllables.

"I thought you could start," said Triphorm, with a malicious smile on her lips, "with boxes one thousand and twelve to one thousand and fifty-six. You will find some familiar names in there, which should add interest to the task. Here, you see ..."

She pulled out a card from one of the topmost boxes with a flourish and read, "' _Nala Home and Pumbaa Warts. Apprehended using an illegal hex upon Bernard Axley. Axley's head twice normal size. Double detention.'_ " Triphorm sneered. "It must be such a comfort to think that, though they are gone from this school, one more further than the other, a record of their great achievements remain ..."

I felt the familiar boiling sensation in the pit of my stomach. Biting my tongue to prevent myself from retaliating, I sat down in front of the boxes and pulled one towards me.

It was, as I had anticipated, useless, boring work, punctuated (as Triphorm had clearly planned) with the regular jolt in my stomach that meant I had just read my mother or Pumbaa's names, usually coupled together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those of Timon Meers and Alan Abster. And while I copied out all their various offences and punishments, I wondered what was going on outside, where the match would have just started ... Chris playing Seeker against Khan ...

I glanced again and again at the large clock ticking on the wall. It seemed to be moving half as fast as a regular clock; perhaps Triphorm had bewitched it to go extra slowly? I could not have been there for only half an hour ... an hour ... an hour and a half ...

 **CHRIS**

The match was going well; Lion-Heart were in the lead, three hundred to one hundred and forty. As Chris searched the pitch fruitlessly for the Snitch, dodging Bludgers that were thwacked at him and glowering at Khan every time he saw him, Chris' thoughts weren't just on the game, they were also focused on someone, someone who should have been out here, playing Seeker instead of him, and not up at the castle serving detention with Triphorm.

Kiara. The girl he loved. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He knew that if Lion-Heart won that it would make his chances of getting Kiara even greater. And Chris wanted to win - not just because this was the final match, oh no, it was just so he could beat Khan for once.

 _Khan._ What on earth had Kiara seen in him, Chris found himself asking for the hundredth time. As far as he was concerned, Khan Chan was more than a snivelling pretty-boy (although the snivelling had calmed down a lot lately). Chris knew that the only reason he hated Khan was because of jealousy, which was useless now, Chris knew, seeing as Khan and Kiara had been broken up for over a year, but that did not stop Chris for being annoyed at Khan for getting Kiara first, and that made him hate Khan more, which made him even more determined to win. Besides, Kiara needed someone who would fight for her, who had been there for her through most of the things she had been through, who understood her and saw her like no one else did, not some train wreck who was still grieving for his old flame.

Was Chris nervous about the idea of him and Kiara? Of course he was! He'd be a fool not to be. After all, he had known he'd loved Kiara for a couple of years - _no_ , thought Chris suddenly, _no more deluding yourself, Rickers. You've loved Kiara since you first laid eyes on her and you know it._ Chris knew that the voice in his head was right, but that did not hide the fact that he knew that Kiara had seen him as just a friend, possibly a brother, for many years. And yet there had been moments over the past year where he had seen Kiara looking at him for long moments, her eyes looking at him with longing and ... something else, something that he had only hoped and dreamed of seeing in her eyes for a long time now, not to mention that almost-kiss that had happened a few short days ago, something that had been following him into his dreams ever since that night, and that made him even more hopeful -

There it was. The Snitch. It was fluttering around near the Rave-wings goalposts. Chris dived, the rush of the wind and the noise of the crowd ringing in his ears. As he was closing in on the Snitch, he felt rather than saw a second person racing with him: Khan Chan urged his broom on, trying to pick up speed, but Khan was faster, and they were both neck and neck as they closed in on the Snitched, hands outstretched, and -

 **KIARA**

My stomach started rumbling when the clock showed half past twelve. Triphorm, who had not spoken at all since setting me my task, finally looked up at ten past one.

"I think that will do," she said coldly. "Mark the place you have reached. You will continue at ten o'clock next Saturday."

"Yes, ma'am."

I stuffed a bent card into the box at random and I hurried out of the door before Triphorm could change her mind, straining my ears to hear a sound from the pitch, but all was quiet ... it was over, then ...

I hesitated outside the crowded Great Hall, then ran up the marble staircase; whether Lion-Heart won or lost, the team usually celebrated or commiserated in our own common room.

 _"Quid agis?"_ I said tentatively to the Fat Lord, wondering what I would find inside.

His expression was unreadable as he replied, "You'll see."

And he swung forwards.

A roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind him. I gaped as people began to scream at the sight of me; several hands pulled me into the room.

"We won!" yelled Chrissie, who came bounding into sight. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"

As I looked around at the many smiling, happy faces staring at me, I realised that there were two things that were missing: Chris and the silver Quidditch Cup. Before I could ask where either of these things were, Sian came over to me, hugged me and whispered quickly, "If you're wondering where Chris is, he took the Quidditch Cup down to the room where you first practiced dancing for the Yule Ball together, and he told me to tell you he's waiting for you there." Pulling back, Sian winked knowingly at me and rejoined the party.

I stood there, letting the information Sian had just given me wash over me. Then, accepting all she had told me and grinning broadly to myself, I hurried back out of the portrait hole and rushed to find Chris.

 **AN: You really didn't think I was going to make it that easy, did you? That I was going to let Chris and Kiara get together like that? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Well, you're just going to have to wait until the next chapter to see that. So I hope you enjoyed this chapter and you, my dear readers, will see Chris and Kiara together, at long last, next week.**


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: So, here it is, the chapter I know many of you have been waiting for - well, I know I've been waiting to write it, anyway. Yep, it's where Chris and Kiara finally get together! Woo! I loved writing this chapter. Again, this was one of those that started out much longer in my head, but became shorter on paper. Yes, this does get a little cheesy and cringy in parts, but these two are teenagers, don't forget, so we can forgive them for that, can't we? Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll see you next week.**

 **Chapter 26**

 **Chris and I**

 **KIARA**

As I dashed down the many corridors and floors to meet Chris, many feelings rushed through me: excitement, nervousness, anxious of what was going to happen. I knew that Chris was going to be happy we won, but I wondered what was going to happen between us. I wanted to be Chris' girlfriend desperately, wanted everyone to know I was dating him, but I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way. But then I remembered that almost-kiss we shared a few days ago, which only made me want to see him even more, so I increased my speed and rushed to meet him.

I paused outside of the room where Chris and I first started to dance together, letting my heart rate calm and trying, but failing, to stop my hands from shaking. I knew that once I opened the door that there would be no going back, but despite how nervous I felt, I knew that I wanted to see if Chris and I had a shot together, and the fact that Chris was down here waiting for me said that he felt the same. I then took to trying to fix my hair, ridding the creases from my clothes and checking my breath, but then I shook my head, telling myself that I was being ridiculous, that this was Chris waiting for me in there and that he wouldn't care how I looked, for he had seen me in far worse states before now. So I took a deep breath for courage and opened the door.

The room was lit with many candles and the curtains were drawn over each window, so that only dusty patches of sunlight came through, and all the tables, besides the teacher's desk, had been pushed up against the walls, leaving a wide circle in the centre of the room. Chris was bent over the teacher's desk, his long fingers absent-mindedly stroking the Quidditch Cup's silver handles. Once the door had opened his head popped up and he turned to see me, his gaze softening as he took me in.

"Kiara," he said, in a voice that was meant just for me.

I just smiled at him, stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I then walked up to the desk and touched the trophy. "So, we really did win, then?"

"Yeah, we did," said Chris. I looked up into his astonishing green eyes, but before I could get lost in them as I so longed to do, I asked him, "So, Chris, why are we truly here?"

Chris blinked a few times, like he was coming out of a trance, coughed and said, "Well, it's because I have some things to tell you, and I don't want anyone else to hear ..."

"Er ... OK," I said, intrigued. There was a pause, then Chris took my hands in his and led me into the centre of the room. I stopped with him, and when he looked at me our eyes never left each other. I looked at him curiously, wondering what he was going to say, for he seemed to be thinking carefully.

"You may not realise this, Kiara," he said at last, "but this room holds great memories for me, because this is the place where you first taught me how to dance. You're quite the teacher, you know, even if you don't know it. But that wasn't the only reason I wanted to dance with you, oh no ... the other reason was because I wanted to know what it felt like to hold you in my arms. You have no idea how wonderful that felt for me, Kiara. And then ... at the Yule Ball ... you have no idea how beautiful you looked to me that night ... you seemed to me like you were an angel of some kind painted in a dream." He laughed, and so did I. "I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true.

"But despite how I felt, how I saw you, I knew that you didn't look at me the same way. I saw you, always looking at Khan ... and whenever he would look at you, you would blush this adorable blush, your face would light up and your eyes would sparkle. I hated it, because I would imagine you looking at me that way, and I _wanted_ , more than anything in the world, for you to look at me that way. But I understood that you did not look at me that way, because you did not feel for me as I felt for you in those days. And then ... when I heard about your first kiss ... it killed me, Kiara; and every time I saw you with him, laughing and joking together, it hurt me even more. I was jealous, I admit it, but I suffered in silence, because your happiness was - and is - the most important thing to me ..."

I remained frozen through all this, staring at Chris as though I was seeing him for the first time, and it was at that moment that I understood the reason behind all the glares that Chris had given Khan - even at the mention of Khan's name! - and all the looks he had given me. The realisation of his jealousy crashed in on me with full force and I immediately felt guilty for causing him so much pain.

"Chris, I - " I started, but he stopped me.

"It's all right, don't apologise," Chris said quickly. "You didn't know how I felt, so how could you have known? I admit that when you and Khan broke up I was so happy, but I didn't dare make a move on you: it was too soon, and I didn't want to push you into a corner, so to speak.

"But still, I knew I wanted to be with you, Kiara, and somehow I knew the only way that you were going to see me - not as a friend or a brother, but _really_ see me - was if I started dating someone. After all, you had been with Khan, so why couldn't I be with someone? I noticed that Dena had been looking at me in CA meetings, and after a while, I started to notice her, and then I started to talk to her, and then we started dating. I put the thought of you and I to the back of my mind in those days, Kiara; there would be time for us later, this I knew, but I just wanted my focus to be on Dena.

"But as time went on, I began to tire of spending time with Dena. Don't get me wrong, she's a nice, sweet girl, but she spent too much of her time with Zara, and in almost every conversation we had, she would always mention Zara, and it seemed to me that Dena would rather be with Zara more than me. I began to resent being with her.

"So I turned my mind back to you, wondering how you saw me when I was with Dena. Whenever I caught a glimpse of you, I always noticed you looking at me, staring at me with a look I always dreamed you'd give me someday, but more often than not I found you looking at my hands, like they were the most fascinating thing in the world to you. And then I would hear you laughing at my jokes, paying close attention to the things I said or did: in short, you essentially picked up on everything that Dena didn't, and this was both before and after Christmas, and as you can imagine, by this point I was starting to get fed up with Dena, so this Christmas just gone - "

"You spoke to my father," I said slowly, the pieces finally coming together, "... to ask him whether he would approve of us."

Chris looked taken aback by my sudden knowledge. "Yes," he said, quickly recovering. "I have to tell you, I honestly don't think I've been that nervous before in my life, and it didn't help that your father kept giving me the stern-eye. So I talked to him - well, stammered really - about the possibility of you and I, Kiara, and in the end he took pity on me, for he smiled, laughed, shook my hand and told me that he could think of no one better for his daughter - he gave us his blessing, actually."

"He did?" I said, shocked yet elated by these words.

"Yes," said Chris, coming towards me. "Even though I hadn't broken up with Dena at the time, that was how much faith your father has in us." He smiled slightly, then continued, "When we come back, I took more notice of you, and there were times doing so where I wanted nothing more than to leave Dena's side, rush over to where you were, brush the hair out of your eyes and kiss you, but somehow I restrained myself. It would have been unfair to Dena if I did that, and I had not broken up with her."

"If you wanted to be with me so badly, then why didn't you?" I said, confused as to why he hadn't broken up with Dena sooner if he truly felt that way about me.

"Because I was a coward, Kiara," Chris said earnestly. "I didn't want to hurt her and I didn't want to see how she would react; but fortunately, months later, she broke up with me." He then smiled a half-smile that made me go weak in the knees. "And now here we stand, in the midst of our Quidditch victory, two people who want nothing more than to be with each other."

At his words I started sniggering. I couldn't help it. Chris frowned. "What is it? Why are you laughing?"

I calmed down and said, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. It was so cheesy, those last words you spoke; you sounded like some sort of ... hero out of a Muggle story coming to sweep the fair maiden off her feet." I started laughing again, and after a few moments, Chris did too.

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" he said with a chuckle. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Chris added, "Did I, by any chance, sweep you off your feet?"

I looked at him innocently, cocked my head to the side and said with a shrug, "Perhaps."

Chris chuckled again. Then his expression became more serious, his eyes gazing at me with such fierce intensity that it made me gulp, even as the blood rushed to my cheeks and my heart began to race. Chris looked at me steadily and said the best and most unexpected words I had ever heard him say: "I love you, Kiara."

I stood there, stunned, letting Chris' words wash over me. He loves me! Chris _actually_ told me he loves me! I couldn't believe it. I was too shocked to say anything, so I listened as Chris started talking again.

"I know I shouldn't have said it, and I know that it's too soon for you to hear it, but I can't deny how I feel about you, Kiara. I love you, I really do. It's OK if you don't want to say it to me now, for I'll wait as long as I have to, but I just wanted you to know how I - "

I had gotten over my shock as joy coursed through me, which made me move again, so I stopped his stupid, incessant babbling by pulling him to me and kissing him with all that I had in me. I felt him stiffen for a moment, before he started kissing me back, one hand wrapped around my waist, the other tangled in my hair. I wrapped my hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

Kissing Chris was nothing like kissing Khan. When Khan and I kissed it was nice and safe, and there was a spark there, but it was nothing compared to the all-consuming fire that rushed through my veins; light flashed behind my eyes and I wasn't sure if it was my heart or Chris' that I was hearing, but it was beating a furious rhythm, and the more Chris and I kissed, the more our thoughts came together: we saw each other's memories more clearly than ever before, and the colours were so much more vibrant. It was like we were two pieces of a jigsaw attaching themselves together - a perfect fit - and that, more than anything else, convinced me that Chris and I were meant to be together, that this was right.

Chris and I lost track of time when we were kissing, so for all we knew several sunlit days could have gone by when we finally broke apart, the two of us breathing heavily, gasping for air, but we didn't care, as bright colours of red, blue, green, gold and purple surrounded us then vanished. The only thing that mattered to Chris and I was each other at that moment. We put our foreheads together, relishing in being with each other.

"Wow," I breathed out at last, after my breathing had returned to normal.

"Yeah ... wow," said Chris. I then felt the hand that held my waist hold me more securely, as his other hand untangled itself from my hair and took my right hand in his left. I looked up at him, confused at what was going on; Chris just grinned and said, "I hope you're not afraid of me testing out my dancing skills on you again, are you?" I grinned back at him, shook my head and allowed Chris to lead me around the room, my head falling on to his chest, listening to his heart beating and breathing in his scent of sandalwood, pine and berries and something else, something that was all him, closing my eyes and smiling contentedly.

After a while, Chris spoke again. "Kiara?" he said, his tone quite nervous now.

"Hmm?"

"When all this mess is over ... and we've finally got rid of Zira ... how would you feel about the possibility of ... of marrying me someday?"

I looked up at him, shocked. I didn't even realise that we had stopped dancing. I honestly didn't know what to say. I mean, I knew that I was falling for Chris, and that I wanted to date him, but marriage? I was sixteen, for crying out loud! There would be a time for marriage later. But as I looked at Chris, and saw how nervously yet earnestly he was looking at me, I knew that he meant every word. And then, gazing into his eyes, I saw it: I saw us growing old together, what our children would be like, surrounded by our friends and family, and that filled my heart with joy, so I smiled at Chris and said, "Well, let's see how things go between us first and then we'll see."

Chris' eyes lit up and his eyes became even wider at my words. He picked me up and spun me around; I couldn't help but laugh with pure joy, and he laughed with me. When Chris had put me back down again, he started to move his head close to mine. I raised my head to meet his, but before our lips could touch, the door banged open, revealing Sian and Chrissie.

Chris and I moved apart, but we still held each other, staring at Sian and Chrissie, who stared back at us. Chris was glaring at his sisters, and I smiled nervously at them, as I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks, hoping that they were OK with the idea of Chris and I as an item. For a moment or two, there was silence. Then Sian gave an uncharacteristic scream of delight, ran towards us and hugged us both; Chrissie was still standing shocked in the doorway.

"Finally," Sian sighed as she let us go, her eyes shining with joy and her lips pressed together in a wide smile. "I thought this day would never come ..."

"Wait," I said, surprised by this, "you _wanted_ this to happen, Sian?"

"Of course I did!" she said, shocked at my words. "And not just because of the Soul Bond you two share, oh no, the reason I wanted you to be with my brother, Kiara, is because I can picture no one else better for him, and I want him to be happy. And it's about darn pickin' time you two got together; Chrissie and I were starting to think it would never happen - "

"You knew that Chris and I would end up together?"

"Please. Chrissie and I saw it well before you both did," said Sian. "In fact, we came in here after you had gone after your first dancing lesson, and we found Chris in here banging his head against a wall. That's how we knew he had strong feelings for you." I looked at her, one of my eyebrows raised. "Oh, all right, that's how _I_ knew, but as soon as I said it, Chrissie knew, too."

"Yeah, and you haven't stopped annoying me about it ever since," Chris muttered. I laughed. Sian just frowned playfully at him.

I then looked at Chrissie, who was still stood in the doorway, and asked her, "And are you OK with this, Chrissie?"

Chrissie started, looked at us for a few moments, then said, "You could both do much worse, trust me." She then smiled at me and I smiled back at her, relieved that she had accepted it.

My attention was then drawn back to Sian, who said, "Well, let's not hang around here any longer, Chrissie. Just wait until our family hears about this!"

"That's not really necessary, is it, Sian?" said Chris, voicing my question for me.

Sian, who had been walking back to the door, stopped and turned to face Chris again. "Look Chris, I know that you and Kiara both want to hide your newfound relationship from everyone's eyes, but this sort of thing will get out. It always does, you know." Shen then smiled sadly at us and walked towards the door again. Once she had gone, Chrissie came in and picked the Quidditch Cup off the desk and left the room with it without saying a word to myself or Chris, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door had closed, I rested my head on Chris' chest, closed my eyes and said, "Great. Another reason for people to stare at me. Just what I need!"

"People will talk anyway, Kiara," Chris said gently, cupping my face gently and raising it so that I could look at him. "They always do. But you and I are the only ones that matter here, Kiara, not the rest of the world. This is _our_ relationship, not theirs. Remember that."

His words did make me feel better, and to show him my gratitude I pulled him to me and we shared another amazing, heart-stopping, mind-blowing kiss, where we remained for quite some time.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Well, I hope I did Chris and Kiara's get together justice for you all and I really hope you enjoyed it. The POV switches to Crighton before the bottom of this chapter. It is quite interesting what happens there, so please read it and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **Chapter 27**

 **The Seer Overheard**

 **KIARA**

 _Dear Daddy and Mum, and little brother Kion,_

 _I am sorry for what I did to Dani Malty. I should have known better and I will never use that spell on another living soul for as long as I live ever again, ever!_

 _But on to more happier news now, we won! Lion-Heart won the Quidditch Cup without me! Don't get me wrong, I was disappointed to not be there for the last match of the season - and still am - but after that I met up with Chris in the room where I taught Chris how to dance for the Yule Ball and I have to tell you that we are now a couple. Don't worry, he broke up with Dena a few weeks before, so he's not cheating on her. It's all completely honest, I swear._

 _I am so happy right now, I can't describe it. I never dreamed I could be this happy before, because with Chris everything seems right and simple and easy, and when I'm with him I don't even have to struggle of things to talk about. We understand each other on every level. I don't know whether it's because we've known each other a long time, but I wouldn't change anything with him. I love him. I know I'm only sixteen, but I know that I am falling for him._

 _Well, I have to go. Give my love to Kion for me._

 _All my love,_

 _Kiara_

Chris was right about the news about us getting out quickly, because the fact that I was going out with Chris Rickers seemed to interest a great number of people, most of them boys, yet I found myself newly and happily impervious to gossip over those next few weeks (although I didn't mind the reactions of the Dawson siblings, who were all happy to see me with Chris). After all, it made a very nice change for me to be talked about because of something that was making me happier than I could remember being for a very long time, rather than because I had been involved in horrific scenes of Dark magic.

"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," said Chris, as I was sat on the common room floor, leaning against his legs, letting his fingers brush through my hair. "Three Stinger attacks in a week, and all Ronnie Vaughn does is ask me if it's true you've got a Hippogriff tattooed across your chest."

Sian and Chrissie both roared with laughter. I ignored them.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him it's a unicorn," said Chris, shrugging his shoulders. "Much more girly."

"Thanks," I said, grinning. "And what did you tell him Chrissie's got?"

"A Niffler, but I didn't say where."

Chrissie glared as Sian rolled around laughing.

"Watch it," said Chrissie warningly, pointing a menacing finger at Chris and I. "Just because you two are dating now does not mean you get to go snogging each other all over the school - "

Sian snorted and said, "Don't be so hypocritical, Chrissie!"

"I am not a hypocrite!" said Chrissie indignantly.

"Actually, Chrissie, you are," said Chris. "After all, you and Larry were thrashing like a pair of eels all over the place, and no one ever stopped you, did they?"

But as much as Chris and I were happy, as we moved into June we could not help but be worried about Sian, who, although she tried to act normal, always seemed to have an anxious, worried look about her. Whenever one of us would ask her if she was all right, she would smile, say she was fine and brush it off, but none of us believed her, and it made myself and the rest of the Dawson siblings all the more worried for her. Furthermore, on the first Saturday of June, all the Dawson siblings, besides Sian, were called one by one to see their mother. Each meeting lasted for about half an hour, and when they came back, none of them would say what happened, but they bore expressions of sadness and confusion, and each Dawson sibling carried a letter with one line written on it: _Not to be opened until Sian tells you._

It was a few days after this that, one evening, I was to be found siting beside the window in the common room, supposedly finishing my Herbology homework, but in reality I was reliving a particularly happy hour I had spent down by the river at lunchtime, when Sian dropped into the seat opposite me and, ignoring Chris and Chrissie, looked at me with an unpleasantly purposeful look on her face.

"I want to talk to you, Kiara?"

"What about?" I said nonchalantly.

"The so-called Half-Blood Princess."

"Oh, not again," I groaned. "Will you please drop it?"

I had not dared to return to the Room of Needs to retrieve my book, and my performance in Potions was suffering accordingly (though Beadu, who approved of Chris, had jocularly attributed this to me being lovesick). But I was sure that Triphorm had not yet given up hope of laying hands on the Princess' book, and I was determined to leave it where it was while Triphorm remained on the lookout.

"I'm not dropping it," said Sian firmly, "until you've heard me out. Now, I've been trying to find out a bit about who might make a hobby out of inventing Dark spells - "

"She didn't make a hobby of it - "

"She, she, who - actually, you're right. What was I saying?"

"Where is this coming from, Sian?" I asked, confused.

"Well, I've been having the assumption that the Princess was a boy, until I found this a few hours ago ..." Sian then pulled out a very old piece of newsprint out of her pocket and slammed it down on the table in front of me. "Look at that! Look at the picture!"

I picked up the crumbling piece of paper and stared at the moving photograph, yellowed with age; Chris and Chrissie both leaned over for a look, too. The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was very plain; she looked simultaneously cross and stubborn, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: _Eleanor Princess, Captain of the Dragon Mort Gobstones Team_.

"So?" I said, scanning the short news item to which the picture belonged; it was a rather dull story about inter-school competitions.

"Her name was Eleanor Princess. _Princess_ , Kiara."

We looked at each other and I realised what Sian was trying to say. I burst out laughing.

"No way."

"What?"

"You think _she_ was the Half-Blood ...? Oh, come on."

"Well, why not? Kiara, there aren't any real wizarding princesses in the wizarding world! It's either a nickname, a made-up title somebody's given themselves, or it could be their actual name, couldn't it? No, listen! If, say, her mother was a witch whose surname was 'Princess', and her father was a Muggle, then that would make her a 'half-blood Princess'!"

"Yeah, very ingenious, Sian ..."

"But it would! Maybe she was proud of being half a Princess!"

"Listen, Sian, I think I'm right in saying the Princess is a girl, I'm just not sure she's _this_ one."

"The truth id that you don't think other girls are clever enough," said Sian angrily.

"I'm not saying that all girls aren't clever, Sian, I'm just saying I don't believe what you're telling me," I said, stung by this. "The Princess could be a number of different girls, but I'm certain this girl hasn't got anything to do with it. Where did you get this, anyway?"

"The library," said Sian, predictably. "There's a whole collection of old _Prophets_ up there. Well, I'm going to find out more about Eleanor Princess if I can."

"Enjoy yourself," I said irritably.

"I will," said Sian. "And the first place I'll look," she shot at me, as she reached the portrait hole, "is records of old Potions awards!"

I scowled after her for a moment, then continued my contemplation of the darkening sky.

"She's just never going to get over you outperforming her in Potions," said Chrissie, returning to her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

"Neither of you don't think I'm mad, wanting that book back, do you?"

"Course not," said Chrissie robustly. "She was a genius, the Princess. Anyway ... without her bezoar tip ..." she drew her finger significantly across her own throat, "I wouldn't be here to discuss it, would I? I mean, I'm not saying that spell you used on Malty was great - "

"Nor am I," I said quickly.

"None of us are," said Chris, covering my hand and smiling gently at me, "but she healed all right, didn't she? Back on her feet in no time."

"Yeah," I said; this was perfectly true, although my conscience squirmed slightly all the same. "Thanks to Triphorm ..."

"You still got detention this Saturday?" Chrissie asked me.

"Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that," I sighed. "And she's hinting now that if I don't get all the boxes done by the end of term, we'll carry on next year."

I was finding those detentions particularly irksome because they cut into the time I could have been spending with Chris. Indeed, I began to frequently wonder whether Triphorm did not know this, for she was keeping me later and later every time, while making pointed asides about me having to miss the good weather and the varied opportunities it offered.

I was shaken from these bitter reflections by the appearance at my side of Jenny Peet, who was holding out a scroll of parchment.

"Thanks, Jenny ... hey, it's from Crighton!" I said excitedly, unrolling the parchment and scanning it. "She wants me to go to her office as quick as I can!"

Chris, Chrissie and I stared at each other.

"Blimey," whispered Chrissie. "You don't reckon ... she hasn't found ...?"

"Better go and see, hadn't I?" I said, kissing Chris' cheek and jumping to my feet.

I hurried out of the common room and along the seventh floor as fast as I could, passing nobody but Weeves, who swooped in the opposite direction, throwing bits of chalk at me in a routine sort of way and cackling loudly as she dodged my defensive jinx. Once Weeves had vanished, there was silence in the corridors; with only fifteen minutes left until curfew, most people had already returned to their common rooms.

And then I heard a scream and a crash. I stopped in my tracks, listening.

"How - _dare_ \- you - aaaaargh!"

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby; I sprinted towards it, my wand at the ready, hurled round another corner and saw Professor Crystals sprawled upon the floor, his head covered in one of his many scarves, several sherry bottles lying beside him, one broken.

"Professor - "

I hurried forwards and helped Professor Crystals to his feet. Some of his glittering beads had become entangled with his glasses. He hiccoughed loudly, patted his hair and pulled himself up on my helping arm.

"What happened, Professor?"

"You may well ask!" he said shrilly. "I was strolling along, brooding upon certain Dark portents I happened to have glimpsed ..."

But I was not paying much attention. I had just noticed where we were standing: there on the right was the tapestry of ogres clubbing their dance teacher and, on the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that concealed -

"Professor, were trying to get into the Room of Needs?"

"... omens I have been vouchsafed - what?"

He looked suddenly shifty.

"The Room of Needs," I repeated. "Were you trying to get in there?"

"I - well - I didn't know students knew about - "

"Not all of them do," I said. "But what happened? You screamed ... it sounded as though you were hurt ..."

"I - well," said Professor Crystals, drawing his scarves around him defensively and staring down at me with his vastly magnified eyes. "I wished to - ah - deposit certain - um - personal items in the Room ..." And he muttered something about "nasty accusations".

"Right," I said, glancing down at the sherry bottles. "But you couldn't get in and hide them?"

I found this very odd; the Room had opened for me, after all, when I had wanted to hide the Half-Blood Princess' book.

"Oh, I got in all right," said Professor Crystals, glaring at the wall. "But there was somebody already in there."

"Somebody in - ? Who?" I demanded. "Who was in there?"

"I have no idea," said Professor Crystals, looking slightly taken aback at the urgency in my voice. "I walked into the Room and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of hiding - of using the Room, I mean."

"A voice? Saying what?"

"I don't know that it was saying anything," said Professor Crystals. "It was ... whooping."

 _"Whooping?"_

"Gleefully," he said, nodding.

I stared at him.

"Was it male or female?"

"I would hazard a guess at female," said Professor Crystals.

"And it sounded happy?"

"Very happy," said Professor Crystals sniffily.

"As though it was celebrating.

"Most definitely."

"And then - ?"

"And then I called out, 'Who's there'?"

"You couldn't have found out who it was without asking?" I asked him, slightly frustrated.

"The Inner Eye," said Professor Crystals with dignity, straightening his scarves and many strands of glittering beads, "was fixed upon matters well outside the mundane realms of whooping voices."

"Right," I said hastily; I had heard about Professor Crystals' Inner Eye all too often before. "And did the voice say who was there?"

"No, it did not," he said. "Everything was pitch black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the Room!"

"And you didn't see that coming?" I said, unable to help myself.

"No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch - " He stopped and glared at me suspiciously.

"I think you'd better tell Professor Crighton," I said. "She ought to know Malty's celebrating - I mean, that someone threw you out of the Room."

To my surprise, Professor Crystals drew himself up at this suggestion, looking haughty.

"The Headmistress has intimated that she would prefer fewer visits from me," he said coldly. "I am not one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Crighton refuses to ignore the warnings the cards show - "

His bony hand closed suddenly around my wrist.

"Again and again, no matter how I lay them out - "

And he pulled a card dramatically from underneath his scarf.

" - the lightning-struck tower," he whispered. "Calamity. Disaster. Coming nearer all the time ..."

"Right," I said again. "Well ... I think you should tell Crighton about this voice and everything going dark and being thrown out of the Room ..."

"You think so?" Professor Crystals seemed to consider the matter for a moment, but I could tell that he liked the idea of retelling his little adventure.

"I'm going to see her right now," I said. "I've got a meeting with her. We could go together."

"Oh, well, in that case," said Professor Crystals with a smile. He bent down, scooped up his sherry bottles and dumped them unceremoniously in a large blue and white vase standing in a nearby niche.

"I miss having you in my classes, Kiara," he said soulfully, as we set off together. "You were never much of a Seer ... but you were a wonderful Object ..."

I did not reply; I had loathed being the Object of Professor Crystals' continual predictions of doom.

"I am afraid," he went on, "that the nag - I'm sorry, the centaur - knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked her - one Seer to another - had she not, too, sensed the distant vibrations of coming catastrophe? But she seemed to find me almost comical. Yes, comical!"

His voice rose rather hysterically and I caught a powerful whiff of sherry even though the bottles had been left behind.

"Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandfather's gift. Those rumours have been brandished about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people, Kiara? Would Crighton have let me teach at this great school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to her?"

I mumbled something indistinct.

"I well remember my first interview with Crighton," went on Professor Crystals, in throaty tones. "She was deeply impressed, of course, deeply impressed ... I was staying at the Dragon's Eye, which I do not advise, incidentally - bed bugs, dear girl - but funds were low. Crighton did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room at the inn. She questioned me ... I must confess that, at first, I thought she seemed ill-disposed towards Divination ... and I remember I was starting to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day ... but then ..."

And now I was paying attention properly for the first time, for I knew what had happened then: Professor Crystals had made the prophecy that had altered the course of my whole life, the prophecy about Zira and I.

"... but then we were rudely interrupted by Tiana Triphorm!"

"What?"

"Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barmaid standing with Triphorm, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm afraid that I myself rather thought she had been apprehended by eavesdropping on my interview with Crighton - you see, she herself was seeking a job at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well, after that, you know, Crighton seemed much more disposed to give me a job, and I could not help thinking, Kiara, that it was because she appreciated the stark contrast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, compared to the pushing, thrusting young woman who was prepared to listen at keyholes - Kiara, dear?"

He looked back over his shoulder, having only just realised that I was no longer with him; I had stopped walking and we were now ten feet from each other.

"Kiara?" he repeated uncertainly.

As he had been talking, I felt the blood rush from my face, which was probably the reason why Professor Crystals was looking so concerned and frightened at me. I was standing stock-still as waves of shock crashed over me, wave after wave, obliterating everything except the information that had been kept from me for so long ...

It was Triphorm who had overheard the prophecy. It was Triphorm who had carried the news of the prophecy to Zira. Triphorm and the Absters together had sent Zira to hunt my parents and their children ...

Nothing else mattered to me just then.

"Kiara?" said Professor Crystals again. "Kiara - I thought we were going to see the Headmistress together?"

"You stay here," I said through numb lips.

"But, dear ... I was going to tell her how I was assaulted in the Room of - "

"You stay here!" I repeated angrily.

He looked alarmed as I ran past him, down the stairs and all the way to the second floor, where, once I had placed the token in the slot in the glass elevator and told it to take me to Crighton's office, it sped all around the school, but I hardly cared nor noticed. Once out, I did not knock upon Crighton's door, I hammered; and the calm voice answered "Enter" after I had already flung myself into the room.

Kenna the phoenix looked round, her bright black eyes gleaming with reflected gold from the sunset beyond the window. Sian was there, stood next to the desk and looking steadily at me. Crighton was standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black travelling cloak in her arms. If I had looked closely enough, I would have seen that the photographs on Crighton's desk and the pictures her children had sent her and the articles on the wall had gone - all but one - but I didn't, because I was too angry.

"Well, Kiara, I promised that you and Sian could come with me."

For a moment or two, I did not understand; the conversation with Crystals had driven everything else out of my head and my brain seemed to be moving very slowly.

"Come ... with you ...?"

"Only if you wish it, of course."

"If I ..."

And then I remembered why I had been so eager to get to Crighton's office in the first place.

"You've found one? You've found a Horcrux?"

"I believe so."

Rage and resentment fought shock and excitement: for several moments, I could not speak.

"It is natural to be afraid," said Crighton.

"I'm not scared!" I said at once, and it was perfectly true: fear was one emotion I was not feeling at all (at that moment). "Which Horcrux is it? Where is it?"

"I am not sure which it is - though I think we can rule out the snake - but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here, a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in which Dizra Maliay once terrorised two children from her orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?"

"Yes," I said. "How is it protected?"

"I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong." Crighton hesitated, then said, "Kiara, I promised that you and Sian could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," I said, almost before Crighton had finished speaking. Boiling with anger at Triphorm, and my desire to do something desperate and risky had increased tenfold in the last few minutes. This seemed to show on my face, for Crighton moved away from the window, and looked more closely at me, a slight crease between her silver eyebrows, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she was no longer wearing her silver phoenix pendant. Even Sian knew that something was wrong, the way she was looking at me.

"What has happened to you?" Crighton asked.

"Nothing," I lied promptly.

"What has upset you?"

"I'm not upset."

"Kiara, you were never a good Occlumens - "

The word was the spark that ignited my fury.

"Triphorm!" I said, very loudly, and Kenna gave a squawk behind us. "Triphorm's what happened! She told Zira about the prophecy, it was _her_ , _she_ listened outside the door, Crystals told me!"

I saw Sian turn to her mother, shock written all over her face, but Crighton kept looking at me. Her expression did not change, but I thought her face whitened under the bloody tinge cast by the setting sun. For a long moment, Crighton said nothing.

"When did you find out about this?" she asked at last.

"Just now," I said, refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, I could not help myself. "AND YOU LET HER TEACH HERE AND SHE TOLD ZIRA TO GO AFTER MY FAMILY!"

Breathing hard as though I were fighting, I turned away from Crighton, who still had not moved a muscle, and I began to pace up and down the study, rubbing my knuckles in my hand and exercising every last bit of restraint to prevent myself from knocking things over. I wanted to rage and storm at Crighton, but I also wanted to go with her to try and destroy the Horcrux; I wanted to tell her she was a foolish old woman for trusting Triphorm, but I was terrified that Crighton would not take me along unless I mastered my anger ...

"Kiara," said Crighton quietly. "Please listen to me."

It was as difficult for me to stop my relentless pacing as it was to refrain myself from shouting. I paused, bit my lip, and looked into Crighton's semi-lined face.

"Professor Triphorm made a terrible mistake - "

"Don't tell me it was a mistake, ma'am, she was listening at the door!"

"Please let me finish." Crighton waited until I had nodded curtly, then went on. "Professor Triphorm made a terrible mistake. She was still in Lady Zira's employ on the night she heard the first half of Professor Crystals' prophecy. Naturally, she hastened to tell her mistress what she had heard, for it concerned her most deeply. But she did not know - she had no possible way of knowing - which girl Zira would hunt from then onwards, or that the boy she would destroy in her murderous conquest was the son of the people Professor Triphorm knew, the son of your mother and father - "

I let out a yell or mirthless laughter.

"She hates my mother like she hated Pumbaa! Haven't you noticed, Professor, how _some_ of the people Triphorm hates tend to end up dead?"

"You have no idea the remorse Professor Triphorm felt when she realised how Lady Zira had interpreted the prophecy, Kiara. I believe it to be the greatest regret of her life and the reason that she returned - "

"But _she's_ a very good Occlumens, isn't she, ma'am?" I said, my voice shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. "And isn't Zira convinced that Triphrom's on her side, even now? Professor ... how can you be _sure_ Triphorm's on our side?"

Crighton did not speak for a moment; she looked as though she was trying to make up her mind about something. At last she said, "I am sure. I trust Tiana Triphorm completely."

I breathed deeply for a few moments in an effort to steady myself. It did not work.

"Well, I don't!" I said, as loudly as before. "She's up to something with Dani Malty right now, right under your nose, and you still - "

"We have discussed this, Kiara," said Crighton, and now she sounded stern again. "I have told you my views."

"You're leaving the school tonight and I'll bet you haven't even considered that Triphorm and Malty might decide to - "

"To what?" asked Crighton, her eyebrows raised. "What is it that you suspect them of doing, precisely?"

"I ... they're up to something!" I said and my hands curled into fists as I said it. "Professor Crystals was just in the Room of Needs, trying to hide his sherry bottles, and he heard Malty whooping, celebrating! She's trying to mend something dangerous in there and if you ask me she's fixed it at last and you're about to just walk out of school without - "

Before I knew what had happened, before I could say another word, I felt something powerful knock me to the floor, knocking the wind out of me. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Sian was on top of me, glowering, her breathing heavy, looking more lionlike than ever. "Don't _ever_ talk to my mother like that again, Kiara!" she growled, her face inches from mine. I have to admit, I was afraid of her: I didn't dare move in case I did something to enrage her even more than I did.

"Enough," said Crighton, to my immense relief. She said it quite calmly, and yet I kept quiet; I knew that I had finally crossed some invisible line, and apparently, Sian did too. She got up off me and went to stand by her mother's desk; getting up, I saw her glaring at me. "Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Kiara."

"I didn't - " I muttered, a little ashamed, but Sian cut across me.

"And you're forgetting, Kiara, that some of us here are more than just students to my mother."

Sian then turned to her mother, and I felt more ashamed than I already did. Crighton smiled at her daughter, before she turned to me and said firmly, "I do not wish to discuss the matter any further."

I kept my mouth shut, afraid that I had gone too far, that I had ruined my chance of accompanying Crighton, but Crighton went on, "Do you wish to come with me, Kiara?"

"Yes," I said at once.

"Very well, then: listen."

Crighton drew herself up to full height.

"The condition on which I take you with me is one that Sian has already agreed to, and it is this: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

"Of course."

"Be sure to understand me, Kiara. I mean that you must follow even such orders as 'run', 'hide' or 'go back'. Do I have your word?"

"I - yes, of course."

"If I tell you to hide, will you do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

"I - "

"Kiara?"

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your Cloak and meet myself and Sian in the Entrance Hall in five minutes' time."

Crighton turned back to look out of the fiery window and Sian continued to look at her mother; the sun was now a ruby-red glare along the horizon. I walked quickly from the office and down the spiral staircase. My mind was oddly clear all of a sudden. I knew what I had to do.

Chris and Chrissie were still sitting together in the common room when I came back. "What does Ma want?" Chris said at once. "Kiara, are you OK?" he added anxiously.

"I'm fine," I said shortly, racing past them. I dashed up the stairs and into my dormitory, where I flung open my trunk and pulled out the Scallywag's Map and a pair of balled-up socks. Then I sped back down the stairs and into the common room, skidding to a halt where Chris and Chrissie sat, looking stunned.

"I haven't got much time," I panted, "Crighton thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen ..."

Quickly I told them where Sian and I were going, and why. I did not pause either for Chris' hasty questions or Chrissie's gasps of horror; they could work out the finer details for themselves later.

" ... so you see what this means?" I finished at a gallop. "Crighton won't be here tonight, so Malty's going to have another shot at whatever she's up to. _No, listen to me!_ " I hissed angrily, as both Chris and Chrissie showed every sign of interrupting. "I know it was Malty celebrating in the Room of Needs. Here - " I shoved the Scallywag's Map into Chris' hand. "You've got to watch her and you've got to watch Triphorm, too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the CA. Those contact Galleons of Sian's good thinking should still work. Crighton says she's put extra protection in the school, but if Triphorm's involved, she'll know what Crighton's protection is, and how to avoid it - but she won't be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will she?"

"Kiara - " began Chris, his eyes wide with fear.

"I haven't got time to argue," I said curtly. "Take this as well - " I thrust the socks into Chrissie's hands.

"Thanks," said Chrissie. "Er - why do I need socks?"

"You need what's wrapped in them, it's the Felix Felicis. Share it between yourselves. Look, I'd better go, Crighton's waiting - "

"No!" said Chris, as Chrissie unwrapped the tiny little bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. "We don't want it, you take it, who knows what you're going to be facing?"

"I'll be fine, I'll be with your mother," I said. "I want to know you lot are OK ... don't look like that, Chris, I'll see you later ..."

I gave him a swift yet powerful kiss before I was off, hurrying back through the portrait hole towards the Entrance Hall.

Crighton and Sian were waiting for me beside the oaken front doors. They turned as I came skidding out on to the topmost stone step, panting hard, a searing stitch in my side.

Just as Crighton was about to speak, she stopped, her eyes wide and unblinking. I looked at Sian, but she looked just as confused as I did. I then looked back at Crighton, who looked frightened, her eyes flickering slightly, as though she was seeing something we couldn't. And then Crighton came back to us with a great gasping breath that made Sian and I both jump. Crighton took deep steadying breaths, the fear still in her eyes. Whatever she had seen must have deeply unnerved her.

"Mother?" said Sian quietly, tentatively, walking towards Crighton.

Crighton's head shot up at her daughter's voice, looking at Sian as though seeing her for the first time. I saw that Sian was afraid, and I couldn't blame her, for Crighton was scaring me too.

"Come here, _magi_ ," said Crighton shakily, and she led a confused-looking Sian over to a corner of the Entrance Hall, where she spoke very quietly to her. I couldn't hear what was said, but I could tell that Sian was shocked by it. After a couple of minutes the two women embraced, holding each other so tightly it looked as though they didn't want to let go. Eventually, though, they did, and mother and daughter both made their way back to me, both looking upset about something, though I didn't know what, but Sian was trying as hard as she could to pull herself back together ...

 **SUSAN CRIGHTON**

Just before Susan could ask Kiara if she had her Cloak, she heard a voice enter her head: a wise, powerful voice that she had heard many times before. It was the voice of the Oracle, and it must have been important, for the Oracle would not have chosen to communicate with Susan telepathically if it wasn't.

 _"Susan ..."_ the Oracle spoke, _"I know you want to take Sian with you on this mission ... but you must understand that if you do, you will be hurting her more in the year to come ..."_ Then images entered Susan's mind, painful, horrible images of her Sian, screaming, crying, in pain and isolated. _"You know what is going to happen to you, Susan ... you can almost see how much it will hurt Sian ... if you want to protect your daughter ... do not let her go with you."_

And then it was over. Susan blinked rapidly, staring ahead of her but seeing nothing. What she had seen and heard terrified her. She was aware of some of the dangers they were going to face tonight. A familiar feeling of foreboding suddenly stole over Susan, and somehow, she knew that if Sian went with her and Kiara to the cave, she would be damaged. The Oracle was right: to save and protect her daughter's mind as best she could, Susan would have to leave her behind.

"Mother?" she heard Sian ask timidly, which brought Susan back to her surroundings and the two girls in front of her, both of whom were looking equally afraid and confused at Susan. _If they had known what I had just seen and heard_ , she thought despairingly, but she didn't go down that path. She knew what she had to do.

"Come here, _magi_ ," said Susan shakily, and taking Sian by the hand, she led her to a quiet corner of the Entrance Hall. Speaking so low that Kiara couldn't hear them, Susan told Sian, "I'm afraid you can't come with Kiara and I to the cave, Sian."

Sian's confusion quickly turned to shock. "What? But why - ?"

Susan quickly cut across her. "The Oracle spoke to me through my mind just now, Sian, and he showed me what you are going to be like next year. I knew of some of the dangers, but I should have given them more thought, because if you come with us your mind will be damaged, my darling, and I do not want that to happen any more than you do. Do you understand now why you cannot come with us, Sian?"

"Yes, Mother," Sian answered at once.

"Good. Now, once Kiara and I have gone, go back to my office and get Aoife's spare Invisibility Cloak from the bottom-right drawer of my desk. She gave it to me in case I needed it for any reason. Once you have it, put it on and head up to the Astronomy Tower and stay there until Kiara and I return. Will you do that for me, _magi_?"

"Of course, Ma," said Sian.

"Good girl. Come here." And mother and daughter embraced, neither knowing that their embraces were numbered. If they had known, they would never have parted, but part they did, for there was good work to be done this night. And so, mother and daughter went back to Kiara, the two of them trying to hold back the tears that were about to be shed ...

 **KIARA**

When Sian and her mother reached me, Crighton said in a slightly cracked voice, "There's been a slight change of plan, Kiara. I'm afraid that Sian will not be joining us tonight."

This surprised me. "Really? How come?" I asked.

Sian and her mother shared a look, and Crighton said to me, "There were some elements I overlooked that are unsuitable for Sian, so that's why she can't come."

I thought this was an odd reason, but I didn't say anything. I turned to Sian, who merely shrugged, then hugged me and whispered, "Look after my mother, Kiara."

"I will," I whispered back. We let go of each other and faced Crighton, who said to me, "Now, Kiara, I would like you to wear your Cloak, please." She waited until I had thrown it on before saying, "Very good." Crighton then turned to Sian and kissed her forehead gently.

"Good luck, Ma," Sian said gently. Crighton smiled at her, then turned to me and said, "Let's go, Kiara."

Crighton set off at once down the stone steps, her own travelling cloak barely stirring in the still summer air. I hurried alongside her under the Invisibility Cloak. I had stopped panting and sweating by this point. I turned back to look at Sian, who had her eyes fixed on her mother's retreating back.

"But what will people think when they see you leaving, Professor?" I asked, Malty and Triphorm gone from my mind.

"That I am off into Dragsmeade for a drink," said Crighton lightly. "I sometimes offer Smootherster my custom, or else visit the Dragon's Eye ... or I appear to. It is as good a way as any of disguising one's true destination."

We made our way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air was full of the smells of warm grass, river water and wood smoke from Mina's cabin. It was difficult for me to believe that we were heading for anything dangerous or frightening (well, at that point, anyway).

"Professor," I said quietly, as the gates at the bottom of the drive came into view, "will we be Apparating?"

"Yes," said Crighton. "You can Apparate now, I believe?"

"Yes," I said, "but I haven't got a licence."

I felt it best to be honest; what if I spoiled everything by turning up a hundred miles from where I was supposed to go?

"No matter," said Crighton, "I can assist you again."

We turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to Dragsmeade. Darkness descended fast as we walked and by the time we reached the high Street night was falling in earnest. Lights twinkled from windows over shops and as we neared the Flying Owls we heard raucous shouting.

" - and stay out!" shouted Sir Smoothster, forcibly ejecting a grubby-looking wizard. "Oh, hello, Susan ... you're out late ..."

"Good evening, Smoothster, good evening ... forgive me, I'm off to the Dragon's Eye ... no offence, but I feel like a quieter atmosphere tonight ..."

A minute later we turned the corner into the side street where the Dragon's Eye sign creaked a little, though there was no breeze. In contrast to the Flying Owls, the pub appeared to be completely empty.

"It will not be necessary for us to enter," muttered Crighton, glancing around. "As long as nobody sees us go ... now place your hand upon my arm, Kiara. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three - one ... two ... three ..."

I turned. At once, there was the horrible sensation that I was being squeezed through a very thick rubber tube; I could not draw breath, every part of me was being compressed almost past endurance and then, just when I thought I might suffocate, the invisible bands seemed to burst open, and I was standing in cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air.


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Just a couple of things: first of all, the letter that Kiara sent to her parents is the last letter that she will write to her parents or Sarabi ever again in this series. Second of all, in two chapters time, there will be a chapter from Sian's point of view which is important, and it will start off somewhere next chapter, but I'll save that information for next week. See you then, and enjoy this chapter.**

 **Chapter 28**

 **The Cave**

 **KIARA**

I could smell salt and hear rushing waves; a light, chilly breeze ruffled my hair as I looked out at a moonlit sea and star-strewn sky. I was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below me. I glanced over my shoulder. A towering cliff stood behind, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon Crighton and I were standing, looked as though they were broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view; the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or grass or sand.

"What do you think?" asked Crighton. She might have been asking whether it was a good site for a picnic.

"They brought the kids from the orphanage here?" I asked, for I could not imagine a less cosy spot for a daytrip.

"Not here, precisely," said Crighton. "There is a village of sorts halfway along the cliffs behind us. I believe the orphans were taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was only ever Dizra Maliay and her youthful victims who visited this spot. No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs; the waters around them are too dangerous. I imagine that Maliay climbed down; magic would have served much better than ropes. And she brought two very small children with her, probably for the pleasure of terrorising them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don't you?"

I looked up at the cliff again and felt goosebumps.

"But her final destination - and ours - lies a little further on. Come."

Crighton beckoned me to the very edge of the rock, where a series of jagged nitches that made footholds led down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent and Crighton, hampered slightly by her withered hand, moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with sea water. I could feel flecks of cold salt spray hitting my face.

 _"Lumos,"_ said Crighton, as she reached the boulder closest to the cliff face. A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below where she crouched; the black wall of rock beside us was illuminated too.

"You see?" said Crighton quietly, holding her wand a little higher. I saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling.

"You will not object to getting a little wet?"

"No," I said.

"Then take off your Invisibility Cloak - there is no need for it now - and let us take the plunge."

And with the sudden agility of a much younger woman, Crighton slid from the boulder, landed in the sea and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, towards the dark slit in the rock face, her lit wand held in her teeth. I pulled off my Cloak, stuffed it into my pocket and followed.

The water was icy; my waterlogged clothes billowed around me and weighed me down. Taking deep breaths that filled my nostrils with the tang of sea salt and seaweed, I struck out for the shimmering, shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff.

The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that I could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Crighton's wand. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left and I saw that it extended far into the cliff. I continued to swim in Crighton's wake, the tips of my benumbed fingers brushing the rough, wet rock.

Then I saw Crighton rising out of the water, her caramel-silver hair and dark robes gleaming. When I reached the spot I found steps that led into a large cave. I clambered up them, water streaming from my soaking clothes, and I emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air.

Crighton was standing in the middle of the cave, her wand held high as she turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling.

"Yes, this is the place," said Crighton.

"How can you tell?" I spoke in a whisper.

"It has known magic," said Crighton simply.

I could not tell whether the shivers I was experiencing were due to my spine-deep coldness or to the same awareness of enchantments. I watched as Crighton continued to revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating on things I could not see.

"This is merely the ante-chamber, the entrance hall," said Crighton after a moment or two. "We need to penetrate the inner place ... now it is Lady Zira's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made ..."

Crighton approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with her blackened fingertips, murmuring words in a strange tongue that I did not understand. Twice Crighton walked around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as she could, occasionally pausing, running her fingers backwards and forwards over a particular spot, until finally she stopped, her hand pressed flat against the wall.

"Here," she said. "We go through here. The entrance is concealed."

I did not ask how Crighton knew. I had never seen a witch work things out like this, simply by looking and touching; but I had long since learned that bangs and smoke were more often the marks of ineptitude than experience.

Crighton stepped back from the cave wall and pointed her wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack.

"You've d-done it!" I said through chattering teeth, but before the words had left my lips the outline hand gone, leaving the rock as bare and solid as ever. Crighton looked round.

"Kiara, I'm so sorry, I forgot," she said; she pointed her wand at me and at once my clothes were as warm and dry as if they had been hanging in front of a blazing fire.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, but Crighton had already turned her attention back to the solid cave wall. She did not try any more magic, but simply stood there staring at it intently, as though something extremely interesting was written on it. I stayed quite still; I did not want to break Crighton's concentration.

Then, after two solid minutes, Crighton said quietly, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

"What is it, Professor?"

"I rather think," said Crighton, putting her uninjured hand inside her robes and drawing out a short silver knife of the kind I used to chop potion ingredients, "that we are required to make payment to pass."

"Payment?" I said. "You've got to give the door something?"

"Yes," said Crighton. "Blood, if I am not mistaken."

 _"Blood?"_

"I said it was crude," said Crighton, who sounded disdainful, even disappointed, as though Zira had fallen short of the standards Crighton expected. The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him or herself to enter. Once again, Lady Zira fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

"Yeah, but still, if you can avoid it ..." I said, having experienced enough pain to be keen for no more.

"Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable," said Crighton, shaking back the sleeve of her robes and exposing the forearm of her injured hand.

"Professor!" I protested, hurrying forwards as Crighton raised her knife. "I'll do it, I'm - "

I did not know what I was going to say - younger, fitter? But Crighton merely smiled. There was a flash of silver, and a spurt of scarlet; the rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops.

"You are very kind, Kiara," said Crighton, now passing the tip of her wand over the deep cut she had made in her own arm, so that it healed instantly, just as Triphorm had healed Malty's wounds. "But your blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn't it?"

The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away: the blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total red darkness.

"After me, I think," said Crighton, and she walked through the archway. I followed her, lighting my own wand hastily as I went.

An eerie sight met our eyes: we were standing on the edge of a great red lake - and I do mean that literally, for the water was red, and no, it was not blood - so vast that I could not make out the distant banks, because the walls were also the same dark red as the lake, in a cavern so high that the ceiling, too, was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety redness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as I would have expected. The red darkness was of a very dense type indeed.

"Let us walk," said Crighton quietly. "Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me."

She set off around the edge of the lake and I followed close behind her. Our footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. On and on we walked, but the view did not vary: on one side of us, the rough cavern wall; on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy redness, in the very middle of which as the mysterious greenish glow. I remember finding the place and the silence oppressive, unnerving (to this day, I still get chills about that place).

"Professor?" I said finally. "Do you think the Horcrux is here?"

"Oh yes," said Crighton. "Yes, I'm sure it is. The question is, how do we get to it?"

"We couldn't ... we couldn't just try a Summoning Charm?" I said, sure that it was a stupid suggestion, but much keener than I was prepared to admit to getting out of that place as soon as possible.

"Certainly we could," said Crighton, stopping so violently that I almost walked into her. "Why don't you do it?"

"Me? Oh ... OK ..."

I had not expected this, but I cleared my throat and said loudly, and aloft, _"Accio Horcrux!"_

With a noise like an explosion, something very large and pale erupted out of the dark water some twenty feet away, before I could see what it was, it had vanished again with a crashing splash that made great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface. I leapt backwards in shock and hit the wall; my heart was still thundering as I turned to Crighton.

"What was that?"

"Something, I think, that is ready to respond should we attempt to seize the Horcrux."

I looked back at the water. The surface of the lake was once more shining red glass; the ripples had vanished unnaturally fast; my heart, however, was still pounding.

"Did you think that would happen, ma'am?"

"I thought _something_ would happen if we made an obvious attempt to get our hands on the Horcrux. That was a very good idea, Kiara; much the simplest way of finding out what we are facing."

"But we don't know what that thing was," I said, looking at the sinisterly smooth water.

"What the things _are_ , you mean," said Crighton. "I doubt very much that there is only one of them. Shall we walk on?"

"Professor?"

"Yes, Kiara?"

"Do you think we're going to have to go into the lake?"

"Into it? Only if we are very unfortunate."

"You don't think the Horcrux is at the bottom?"

"Oh no ... I think the Horcrux is in the _middle_."

And Crighton pointed towards the misty green light in the centre of the lake.

"So we're going to have to cross the lake to get to it?"

"Yes, I think so."

I did not say anything. My thoughts were all of water monsters, of giant serpents, of demons, kelpies and sprites ...

"Aha," said Crighton and she stopped again; that time, I really did walk into her; for a moment I toppled on the edge of the dark water and Crighton's uninjured hand closed tightly around my upper arm, pulling me back. "So sorry, Kiara, I should have given warning. Stand back against the wall, please, I think I have found the place."

I had no idea what Crighton meant; this patch of dark bank was exactly like every other bit as far as I could tell, but Crighton seemed to have detected something special about it. This time she was running her hand not over the rocky wall, but through the thin air, as though expecting to find and grip something invisible.

"Aha," said Crighton happily, seconds later. Her hand had closed in mid-air upon something I could not see. Crighton moved closer to the water; I watched nervously as the tips of Crighton's buckled shoes found the utmost edge of the rock rim. Keeping her hand clenched in mid-air, Crighton raised her wand with the other and tapped her fist with the point.

Immediately a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water into Crighton's clenched hand. Crighton tapped the chair, which began to slide through her fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rocky walls, pulling something from the depths of the black water. I gasped as the ghostly prow of a tiny boat broke through the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and floated, with barely a ripple, towards the place on the bank where Crighton and I stood.

"How did you know that was there?" I asked in astonishment.

"Magic always leaves traces," said Crighton, as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, "sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught Dizra Maliay. I know her style."

"Is ... is this boat safe?"

"Oh yes, I think so. Zira needed to create a means to cross the lake within it, in case she ever wanted to visit or remove her Horcrux."

"So the things in the water won't do anything to us if we cross in Zira's boat?"

"I think we must resign ourselves to the fact that they will, at some point, realise we are not Lady Zira. Thus far, however, we have done well. They have allowed us to raise the boat."

"But why have they let us?" I asked, for I could not shake off the vision of tentacles rising out of the dark water the moment we were out of sight of the bank.

"Zira would have been reasonably confident that none but a very great wizard would have been able to find the boat," said Crighton. "I think she would have been prepared to risk what was, to her mind, the most unlikely possibility that somebody else would find it, knowing that she had set obstacles ahead that only she would be able to penetrate. We shall see whether she is right."

I looked down into the boat. It really was very small.

"It doesn't look like it was built for two people. Will it hold both of us? Will we be too heavy?"

Crighton chuckled.

"Zira will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed her lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it."

"But then - ?"

"I do not think you will count, Kiara: you are under age and unqualified. Zira would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine."

These words did nothing to raise my morale; perhaps Crighton knew it, for she added, "Zira's mistake, Kiara, Zira's mistake ... age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth ... now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water."

Crighton stood aside and I climbed carefully into the boat. Crighton stepped in, too, coiling the chain on to the floor. We were crammed in together; I could not comfortably sit, but crouched, my knees jutting over the edge of the boat, which began to move at once. There was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat's prow cleaving the water; it moved without our help, as though an invisible rope were pulling it onwards towards the light in the centre. Soon we could no longer see the walls of the cavern; we might have been at sea except that there were no waves.

I looked down and saw the reflected silver of my wandlight sparkling and glittering on the red water as we passed. The boat was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark red mirror ...

And then I saw it, marble-white, floating inches below the surface.

"Professor!" I said, and my startled voice echoed loudly over the silent water.

"Kiara?"

"I think I saw a hand in the water - a human hand!"

"Yes, I am sure you do," said Crighton calmly.

I stared down into the water, looking for the vanished hand, and a sick feeling rose in my throat.

"So that thing that jumped out of the water - ?"

But I had my answer before Crighton could reply; the wand-light had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed me, this time, a dead woman lying face up inches beneath the surface: her open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, her hair and her robes swirling around her like smoke, and the red water made it look like she was bleeding fresh blood.

"There are bodies in here!" I said, and my voice sounded much higher than usual and most unlike my own.

"Yes," said Crighton placidly, "but we do not need to worry about them at the moment."

"At the moment?" I repeated, tearing my gaze from the water to look at Crighton.

"Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us," said Crighton. "There is nothing to be feared from a body, Kiara, any more than there is to be feared from the darkness. Lady Zira, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again she reveals her own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."

I said nothing; I did not want to argue, but I found the idea that there were bodies floating around and beneath us horrible, and what was more, I did not believe that they were not dangerous.

"But one of them jumped," I said, trying to make my voice as level and as calm as Crighton's. "When I tried to summon the Horcrux, a body leapt out of the lake."

"Yes," said Crighton. "I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Kiara," Crighton added with a smile, in response to my bewildered expression.

"Oh ... right ..." I said quickly. I turned my head to look at the greenish glow towards which the boat was inexorably sailing. I could not pretend, at that moment, that I was not scared. The great red lake, teeming with the dead ... it seemed hours and hours ago that I had met Professor Crystals, that I had given Chris and Chrissie the Felix Felicis ... I suddenly wished that I had said a better goodbye to them ... and I hadn't said a proper goodbye to Sian, either ...

"Nearly there," said Crighton cheerfully.

Sure enough, the greenish light seemed to be growing larger at last, and within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that I could not see at first, but when I raised my illuminated wand I saw that we ha reached a small island of smooth rock in the centre of the lake.

"Careful not to touch the water," said Crighton again as I climbed out of the boat.

The island was no larger than Crighton's office: an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that dark greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close to. I squinted at it; at first I thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then I saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.

Crighton approached the basin and I followed. Side by side we looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting the phosphorescent glow.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

"I am not sure," said Crighton. "Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however."

Crighton pushed back the sleeve of her robe over her blackened hand, and stretched out the tips of her burned fingers towards the surface of the potion.

"Ma'am, no, don't touch - !"

"I cannot touch," said Crighton, smiling gently. "See? I cannot approach any nearer than this. You try."

Staring, I put my hand into the basin and attempted to touch the potion. I met an invisible barrier that prevented me coming within an inch of it. No matter how hard I pushed, my fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and inflexible air.

"Out of the way, please, Kiara," said Crighton.

She raised her wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the potion glowed a little brighter. I remained silent while Crighton worked, but after a while Crighton withdrew her wand and I felt it was safe to talk again.

"You think the Horcrux is in there, ma'am?"

"Oh, yes." Crighton peered more closely into the basin. I saw her face reflected, upside-down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. "But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, vanished, parted, scooped up or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed or otherwise made to change its nature."

Almost absent-mindedly, Crighton raised her wand again, twirled it once in mid-air and then caught the crystal goblet that she had conjured out of nowhere.

"I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk.

"What?" I said. "No!"

"Yes, I think so: only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."

"But what if - what if it kills you?"

"Oh, I doubt that it would work like that," said Crighton easily. "Lady Zira would not want to kill the person who reached this island."

I couldn't believe it. Was this more of Crighton's determination to see the good in everyone?

"Ma'am," I said, trying to keep my voice reasonable, "ma'am, this is _Zira_ we're - "

"I'm sorry, Kiara; I should have said, she would not want _immediately_ to kill the person who reached this island," Crighton corrected herself. "She would want to keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through her defences and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lady Zira believes that she alone knows about her Horcruxes."

I made to speak again, but this time Crighton raised her hand for silence, frowning slightly at the emerald liquid, evidently thinking hard.

"Undoubtedly," she said finally, "this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyse me, cause me to forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Kiara, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"

Our eyes met over the basin; each pale face lit with that strange, green light. I did not speak. Was this why I had been invited along - so that I could force-feed Crighton a potion that might cause her unendurable pain?

"You remember," said Crighton, "the condition on which I brought you with me?"

I hesitated, looking into the green eyes that had turned greener in the reflected light of the basin.

"But what if - ?"

"You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?"

"Yes, but - "

"I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?"

"Yes," I said, "but - "

"Well, then," said Crighton, shaking back her sleeves once more and raising the empty goblet, "you have my orders."

"Why can't I drink the potion instead?" I asked desperately.

"Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable," said Crighton. "Once and for all, Kiara, do I have your word that you will do all in your power to make me keep drinking?"

"Couldn't - ?"

"Do I have it?"

"But - "

 _"Your word, Kiara."_

"I - all right, but - "

Before I could make any further protest, Crighton lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second I hoped she would not be able to touch the potion with the goblet, but the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the brim, Crighton lifted it to her mouth.

"Your good health, Kiara."

And she drained the goblet. I watched, terrified, my hands gripping the rim of the basin so hard that my fingertips were numb.

"Professor?" I said anxiously, as Crighton lowered the empty glass. "How do you feel?"

Crighton shook her head, her eyes closed. I wondered whether she was in pain. Crighton plunged the glass blindly back into the basin, refilled it, and drank once more.

In silence, Crighton drank three gobletfuls of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, she staggered and fell forwards against the basin. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing heavy.

"Professor Crighton?" I said, my voice strained. "Can you hear me?"

Crighton did not answer. Her face was twitching as though she were deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. Her grip on the goblet was slacking; the potion was about to spill from it. I reached forwards and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady.

"Professor, can you hear me?" I repeated loudly, my voice echoing around the cavern.

Crighton panted and then spoke in a voice I did not recognise, for I had never heard Crighton frightened like she was.

"I don't want ... don't make me ..."

I stared into the whitened face I knew so well, at the crooked nose and caramel-silver hair, and I did not know how to comfort her. No wonder Crighton had not let Sian come with us; after all, what child would want to see their parent in that state?

" ... don't like ... want to stop ..." moaned Crighton.

"You ... you can't stop, Professor," I said. "You've got to keep drinking, remember? You told me you had to keep drinking. Here ..."

I didn't want to do it, but what choice did I have; I had promised Crighton that I would obey any order she gave me. So, hating myself, repulsed by what I was doing, I forced the goblet back towards Crighton's mouth and tipped it, so that Crighton drank the remainder of the potion inside.

"No," she groaned, as I lowered the goblet back into the basin and refilled it for her. "I don't want to ... I don't want to ... let me go ..."

"It's all right, Professor," I said, my hand shaking. "It's all right, I'm here - "

"Make it stop, make it stop," moaned Crighton.

"Yes ... yes, this'll make it stop," I lied. I tipped the contents of the goblet into Crighton's open mouth.

Crighton screamed; the noise echoed all around the vast chamber, across the dead red water.

"No, no, no ... no ... I can't, don't make me, I don't want to ..."

"It's all right, Professor, it's all right!" I said loudly, my hands shaking so badly I could hardly scoop up the sixth gobletful of potion; the basin was now half-empty. "Nothing's happening to you, you're safe, it isn't real, I swear it isn't real - take this, now, take this ..."

And obediently, Crighton drank, as though it was an antidote I offered her; but upon draining the goblet, she sank to her knees, shaking uncontrollably.

"It's all my fault, all my fault," she sobbed, "please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh, please make it stop and I'll never, never again ..."

"This will make it stop, Professor," I said, my voice cracking as I tipped the seventh glass of potion into Crighton's mouth.

Crighton began to cower as though invisible torturers surrounded her; her flailing hand almost knocked the refilled goblet from my trembling hands as she moaned, "Don't hurt them, don't hurt them, please, please, it's all my fault, hurt me instead ..."

"Here, drink this, you'll be all right," I said desperately, and once again Crighton obeyed me, opening her mouth even as she kept her eyes tight shut and shook from head to foot.

And now she fell forwards, screaming again, hammering her fists upon the ground, while I filled the ninth goblet.

"Please, please, please, no ... not that, not that, I'll do anything ..."

"Just drink, Professor, just drink ..."

Crighton drank like a child crying of thirst, but when she had finished, she yelled again as though her insides were on fire.

"No more, please, no more ..."

I scooped up a tenth gobletful of potion and felt the crystal scrape the bottom of the basin.

"We're nearly there, Professor, drink this, drink it ..."

I supported Crighton's shoulders and again, Crighton drained the glass; I was on my feet once more, refilling the goblet as Crighton began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!"

"Drink this, Professor, drink this ..."

Crighton drank, and no sooner had she finished than she yelled, "KILL ME!"

"This - this one will!" I gasped. "Just drink this ... it'll be over ... all over!"

Crighton gulped at the goblet, drained every last drop, and then, with a great, rattling gasp, rolled over on to her face.

"No!" I shouted, for I had stood to refill the goblet again; instead I dropped the cup into the basin, flung myself down beside Crighton and heaved her over on to her back; Crighton's mouth was agape and her eyes were closed. "No," I said, shaking Crighton, "no, you're not dead, you said it wasn't poison, wake up, wake up - _Rennervate_!" I cried, pointing my wand at Crighton's chest; there was a flash of red light but nothing happened. " _Rennervate_ \- ma'am - please - "

Crighton's eyes flickered; my hear leapt.

"Ma'am, are you - ?"

"Water," croaked Crighton.

"Water," I panted, "yes - "

I leapt to my feet and seized the goblet I had dropped in the basin; I barely registered the golden locket lying curled beneath it. _"Aguamenti!"_ I shouted, jabbing the goblet with my wand.

The goblet filled with clear water; I dropped to my knees beside Crighton, raised her head and brought the glass to her lips - but it was empty. Crighton groaned and began to pant.

"But I had some - wait - _Aguamenti_!" I said again, pointing my wand at the goblet. Once more, for a second, clear water gleamed within it, but as I approached Crighton's mouth, the water vanished again.

"Ma'am, I'm trying, I'm trying!" I said desperately, but I did not think that Crighton could hear me; she had rolled on to her side and was drawing great, rattling breaths that sounded agonising. _"Aguamenti - Aguamenti - AGUAMENTI!"_

The goblet filled and emptied once more. And now Crighton's breath was fading. My brain whirling in panic, I knew, instinctively, the only way left to get water, because Zira had planned it so ...

I flung myself over to the edge of the rock and plunged the goblet into the lake, brining it up full to the brim of icy water that did not vanish.

"Ma'am - here!" I yelled, and lunging forwards I tipped the water clumsily over Crighton's face.

It was the best I could do, for the icy feeling on my arm not holding the cup was not the lingering chill of the water. A slimy white hand had gripped my wrist, and the creature to whom it belonged was pulling me, slowly, backwards across the rock. The surface of the lake was no longer mirror-smooth; it was churning, and everywhere I looked, white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving towards the rock; an army of the dead rising from the red water.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ I yelled, struggling to cling on to the smooth, soaked surface of the island as I pointed my wand at the Inferius that had my arm: it released me, falling backwards into the water with a splash. I scrambled to my feet; but many more Inferi were already climbing on to the rock, their bony hands clawing at its slippery surface, their blank, frosted eyes upon me, trailing waterlogged rags, sunken faces leering.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ I bellowed again, backing away as I swiped my wand through the air; six or seven of them crumpled, but more were coming towards me. _"Impedimenta! Incarcerous!"_

A few of them stumbled, one or two of them bound in ropes, but those climbing on to the rock behind them merely stepped over or on the fallen bodies. Still slashing at the air with my wand, I yelled, _"Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!"_

But though gashes appeared on their sodden rags and their icy skin, they had no blood to spill: they walked on, unfeeling, their shrunken hands outstretched towards me, and as I backed away still further I felt arms enclose me from behind, thin, fleshless, arms cold as death, and my feet left the ground as they lifted me and began to carry me, slowly and surely, back to the water, and I knew there would be no release, that I would be drowned, and become one more dead guardian of a fragment of Zira's shattered soul ...

But then, through the darkness, fire erupted: crimson and gold, a ring of fire that surrounded the rock so that the Inferi holding me so tightly stumbled and faltered; they did not dare pass through the flames to get to the water. They dropped me; I hit the ground, slipped on the rock and fell, grazing my arms, but I scrambld back up, raising my wand and staring around.

Crighton was on her feet again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any, too, the fire dancing in her eyes; her wand was raised like a torch and from its tip emanated the flames, like a vast lasso, encircling us all with warmth.

The Inferi bumped into each other, attempting, blindly, to escape the fire in which they were enclosed ...

Crighton scooped up the locket from the bottom of the stone basin and stowed it inside her robes. Wordlessly, she gestured to me to come to her side. Distracted by the flames, the Inferi seemed unaware that their quarry was leaving as Crighton led me back to the boat, the ring of fire moving with us, around us, the bewildered Inferi accompanying us to the water's edge, where they slipped gratefully back into the dark red waters.

I was shaking all over, but at that moment I was more concerned about Crighton, for I thought for a moment that she might not be able to climb back into the boat; she staggered a little as she attempted it; all her efforts seemed to be going into maintaining the ring of protective flame around us. I seized her and helped her back to her seat. Once we were both safely jammed inside again, the boat began to move back across the red water, away from the rock, still encircled by that ring of fire, and it seemed that the Inferi swarming below us did not dare resurface.

"Ma'am," I panted, "ma'am, I forgot - about fire - they were coming at me and I panicked - "

"Quite understandable," murmured Crighton. I was alarmed to hear how faint her voice was.

We reached the bank with a little bump and I leapt out, then I turned quickly to help Crighton. The moment that Crighton reached the bank she let her wand fall; the ring of fire vanished, but the Inferi did not emerge again from the water. The little boat sank into the water once more; clanking and tinkling, its chain slithered back into the lake, too. Crighton gave a great sigh and leaned against the cavern wall.

"I am weak ..." she said.

"Don't worry, ma'am," I said at once, anxious about Crighton's extreme pallor and her air of exhaustion. "Don't worry, I'll get us back ... lean on me, ma'am ..."

And pulling Crighton's uninjured arm around my shoulders, I guided my headmistress back around the lake, bearing most of her weight.

"The protection was ... after all ... well designed," said Crighton faintly. "One alone could not have done it ... you did well, very well, Kiara ..."

"Don't talk now," I said, fearing how slurred Crighton's voice had become, how much her feet dragged, "save your energy, ma'am ... we'll soon be out of here ..."

"The archway will have sealed again ... my knife ..."

"There's no need, I got cut on the rock," I said firmly, "just tell me where ..."

"Here ..."

I wiped my grazed forearm upon the stone: having received its tribute of blood the archway reopened instantly. We crossed the outer cave and I helped Crighton back into the icy sea water that filled he crevice in the cliff.

"It's going to be all right, ma'am," I said over and over again, more worried by Crighton's silence than I had been by her weakened voice. "We're nearly there ... I can Apparate us both back ... don't worry ..."

"I am not worried, Kiara," said Crighton, her voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you."


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: OK, so the next chapter will start from when Sian leaves her mother and Kiara at the top of the Astronomy Tower, which you will read a little further down. This is when this book starts to get really emotional; I know that when I read the little goodbye piece between Sian and her mother last week that I shed a few tears, so from this chapter onwards - and especially the next chapter - I highly advise you all, my dear readers, to bring your tissues, for you will need them. For now, though, I leave you with this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it and I will be posting again next week.**

 **Chapter 29**

 **The Lightning-Struck Tower**

 **KIARA**

Once back under the starry sky, I heaved Crighton on to the top of the nearest boulder and then on to her feet. Sodden and shivering, Crighton's weight still upon me, I concentrated harder than I had ever done upon my destination: Dragsmeade. Closing my eyes, gripping Crighton's arm as tightly as I could, I stepped forwards into that feeling of horrible compression.

I knew it had worked before I had opened my eyes: the smell of salt, the sea breeze had gone. Crighton and I were shivering and dripping in the middle of the dark High Street in Dragsmeade. For one horrible moment my imagination showed me more Inferi creeping towards me around the sides of shops, but I blinked and saw that nothing was stirring; all was still, the darkness complete but for a few streetlamps and lit upper windows.

"We did it, Professor!" I said with difficulty; I suddenly realised that I had a searing stitch in my chest. "We did it! We got the Horcrux!"

Crighton staggered against me. For a moment, I thought that my inexpert Apparition had thrown Crighton off-balance; then I saw her face, paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a streetlamp.

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

"I've been better," said Crighton weakly, though the corners of her mouth twitched. "That potion ... was no health drink ..."

I almost laughed at that, and I couldn't help but wonder how Crighton could make a joke like that after what she had endured. But then, to my horror, she sank on to the ground.

"Ma'am - it's OK, ma'am, you're going to be all right, don't worry - "

I looked around desperately for help, but there was nobody to be seen and all I could think was that I must somehow get Crighton quickly to the hospital wing.

"We need to get you up to the school, ma'am ... Matron ..."

"No," said Crighton. "It is ... Professor Triphorm who I need ... but I do not think ... I can walk very far just yet ..."

"Right - ma'am, listen - I'm going to knock on a door, find a place you can stay - then I can run and get Matron - "

"Tiana," said Crighton clearly. "I need Tiana ..."

"All right then, Triphorm - but I'm going to have to leave you for a moment so I can - "

Before I could make a move, however, I heard running footsteps. My heart leapt: somebody had seen, somebody knew we need help - and looking around I saw Sir Smoothster scurrying down the dark street towards us in neat flat slippers, wearing a red velvet dressing gown.

"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to - but what's wrong with Susan?"

He came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at Crighton.

"She's hurt," I said. "Sir Smoothster, can she come into the Flying Owls while I go up to the school and get help for her?"

"You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize - haven't you seen - ?"

"If you help me support her," I said, not listening to him, "I think we can get her inside - "

"What has happened?" asked Crighton. "Smoothster, what's wrong?"

"The - the Death Trail, Susan."

And he pointed into the sky in the direction of Dragon Mort. Dread flooded through me at the sound of the words ... I turned and looked.

There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing red large S, with many smaller s's coming off it like spines, the mark the Love Destroyers left behind whenever they had entered a building ... wherever they had murdered ...

"When did it appear?" asked Crighton, and her hand clenched painfully upon my shoulder as she struggled to her feet.

"Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out, but when I got upstairs - "

"We need to return to the castle at once," said Crighton. "Smoothster," and though she staggered a little, she seemed wholly in command of the situation, "we need transport - brooms - "

"I've got a couple behind the bar," he said, looking very frightened. "Shall I run and fetch - ?"

"No, Kiara can do it."

I raised my wand at once.

 _"Accio Smoothster's brooms."_

A second later we heard a loud bang as the front door of the pub burst open; two brooms had shot out into the street and were racing each other to my side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly, at waist height.

"Smoothster, please send a message to the Ministry," said Crighton as she mounted the broom nearest her. "It might be that nobody within Dragon Mort has yet realised anything is wrong ... Kiara, put on your Invisibility Cloak."

I pulled my Cloak out of my pocket and threw it over myself before mounting my broom; Sir Smoothster was already hurrying back towards his pub as Crighton and I kicked off from the ground and rose up into the air. As we sped towards the castle, I glanced sideways at Crighton, ready to grab her should she fall, but the sight of the Death Trail seemed to have acted upon Crighton as a stimulant: she was bent low over her broom, her eyes fixed upon the Trail, her long caramel-silver hair flying behind her in the night air. And I, too, looked ahead at the Trail, and fear swelled inside me like a venomous bubble, compressing my lungs, driving all other discomfort from my mind ...

How long had we been away? Had Chris and Chrissie's luck ran out by now? Did they sense Sian, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, or was she still safe? Was it one of them who had caused the Trail to be set over the school, or was it Nikita, or Lincoln, or Kestrel, or Keziah, or some other member of the CA? And if it was ... I was the one who had told them to patrol the corridors, I had asked them to leave the safety of their beds ... would I be responsible, again, for the death of a friend?

As we flew over the dark, twisting dark lane down which we had walked earlier, I heard, over the whistling of the night air in my ears, Crighton muttering in some strange language again. I thought I understood why as I felt my broom shudder for a moment when we flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Crighton was undoing the enchantments she herself had set around the castle, so that we could enter at speed. The Death Trail was glittering directly above the Astronomy Tower, the highest of the castle. Did that mean that death had occurred there, and if so, was it Sian's? I looked sideways again at Crighton, and I saw her looking worried, which confirmed my suspicion that she had the exact same worry as I.

Crighton had already crossed the crenelated ramparts and was dismounting; I landed next to her seconds later and looked around, and as I did so, my worry about Sian evaporated, for she threw off her Invisibility Cloak and hurried towards us; she was the only other person there, and the door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed.

"Mother!" Sian called, as she ran to her mother with her arms outstretched.

"Oh, _magi_ ," Crighton breathed weakly with relief, as Sian hugged her mother, running into her a little too hard, for Crighton staggered slightly. Sian drew back a little to look at her mother, and her look of relief turned to worry as she studied Crighton. Then, looking at the place where my broom was, she glared at me, but before she could start yelling, Crighton stopped her by saying, "Do not blame Kiara, Sian ... she was just doing as I told her ... this is all on me, I swear ..."

Sian turned back to her mother, worry now creasing her features.

"But - what happened to you, Mother?"

"There's no time to explain, Sian," said Crighton firmly. "Now, did anyone see or sense you up here when they made the trail?"

"No, Ma," Sian answered. "I remained here under the Cloak after I got it from your office, just like you told me to. I stayed hidden in the shadows. When they came, I didn't know who it was; once I heard the footsteps, I stayed as still as I could and closed my eyes - I even held my breath for good measure. They didn't stay up here long, though; once they had cast the Trail, they left. I don't even know if anyone's died yet."

Crighton sighed and said, "Well, at least you're safe, Sian." Then her expression grew more serious, and she said, "Sian ... we have both been aware of what is shortly going to happen to me for quite some time now ..."

Sian looked confused for a moment, then her expression changed to one of shock-horror. "No, no, not now ... I'm not ready ..."

"I know you're not, Sian," said Crighton, gathering Sian in her arms and stroking her hair. "I know you're not, and to be honest, neither am I. But I need you to carry on being the brave, strong girl I know you are ... keep my promises ... tell your brothers and sisters and your father that I love them all and always will ... can you do that for me, _magi_?"

"Of course, Ma," Sian said in a muffled voice into her mother's chest; it sounded like she was crying.

"Good. Now ... know this ... no matter what happens, my darling, remember that I love you ... and I will always love you ..."

"I live you too, Ma," said Sian in a choked voice. Crighton kissed Sian on top of her head, and when she drew back I was shocked to see tears streaming down Sian's cheeks, and I didn't know why at that moment, but for some reason I was worried, for what they were saying to each other sounded exactly like a goodbye. Sian then kissed her mother's cheek and stared at her mother for a few long moments before she ran to where her Invisibility Cloak lay, threw it around herself and flew out of the door and down the spiral staircase.

Crighton stared at the door, her features melancholy, as her backened hand clutched at her chest. I decided to remind Crighton of my presence.

"What should I do, Professor?"

Crighton jumped out of her reverie and said, faintly but clearly, "Go and wake Tiana. Tell her what has happened and bring her to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here."

"But - "

"You swore to obey me, Kiara - go!"

I hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but my hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when I heard running footsteps on the other side. I looked round at Crighton, who gestured to me to retreat. I backed away, drawing my wand as I did so.

The door burst open and someone erupted through it and shouted: _"Expelliarmus!"_

My body became instantly rigid and immobile, and I felt myself fall back against the Tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or speak. I could not understand how it had happened - _Expelliarmus_ was not a Freezing Charm -

Then, by the light of the Trail, I saw Crighton's wand flying over in an arc over the edge of the ramparts and I understood ... Crighton had wordlessly immobilised me, and the second she had taken to perform the spell had cost her the chance of defending herself.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Crighton still showed no sign of panic or distress. She merely looked across at her disarmer and said, "Good evening, Danielle."

Malty stepped forwards, glancing around quickly to check that she and Crighton were alone. Her eyes fell upon the second broom.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you merely acting alone?"

I saw Malty's pale eyes shift back to Crighton in the reddish glare of the Trail.

"No," she said. "I've got back-up. There are Love Destroyers here in your school tonight."

"Well, well," said Crighton, as though Malty was showing her an ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Yeah," said Malty, who was panting. "Right under your nose and you never realised!"

"Ingenious," said Crighton. "Yet ... forgive me ... where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guard. They're having a good fight down below. They won't be long ... I came on ahead. I-I've got a job to do."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear girl," said Crighton softly.

There was silence. I stood imprisoned within my own invisible, paralysed body, staring at the two of them, my ears straining to hear sounds of the Love Destroyers' distant fight, and in front of me, Dani Malty did nothing but stare at Susan Crighton who, incredibly, smiled.

"Danielle, Danielle, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" said Malty at once.

She seemed to realise how childish the words had sounded; I saw her flush in the Trail's reddish light.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," said Malty more forcefully, "you don't know what I've done!"

"Oh, yes, I do," said Crighton mildly. "You almost killed Keith Ball and my daughter, Christina Dawson (which I was not pleased to hear about, by the way). You have been trying, with increased desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Danielle, but they have been feeble attempts ... so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has really been in it ..."

"It has been in it!" said Malty vehemently. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight - "

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below I heard a muffled yell. Malty stiffened and glanced over her shoulder.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," said Crighton conversationally. "But you were saying ... yes, you have managed to introduce Love Destroyers into my school which, I admit, I thought impossible ... how did you do it?"

But Malty said nothing: she was still listening to whatever was happening below and seemed almost as paralysed as I was.

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," suggested Crighton. "What if your back-up has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realised, there are members of the Order of the Centaur here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help ... I have no wand at the moment ... I cannot defend myself."

Malty merely sneered at her.

"I see," said Crighton kindly, when Malty neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" snarled Malty, though she still made no move to hurt Crighton. "It's you who should be scared!"

"But why?" I don't think you will kill me, Danielle. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe ... so tell me, while we wait for your friends ... how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long tome to work out how to do it."

Malty looked as though she was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. She gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Crighton, her wand pointing directly at the latter's heart. Then, as though she could not help herself, she said, "I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year."

"Aaaah."

Crighton's sigh was half a groan. She closed her eyes for a moment.

"That was clever ... there is a pair, I take it."

"The other's in Borrin and Burka," said Malty, "and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when she was stuck in the Dragon Mort one, she was trapped in limbo but sometimes she could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the Cabinet was travelling between them, but she couldn't make anyone hear her ... in the end she managed to Apparate out, even though she'd never passed the test. She nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realised there could be a way into Dragon Mort through the Cabinets if I fixed the broken one."

"Very good," murmured Crighton. "So the Love Destroyers were able to pass from Borrin and Burka into the school and help you ... a clever plan, a very clever plan ... and, as you say, right under my nose ..."

"Yeah," said Malty who, bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Crighton's praise. "Yeah, it was!"

"But there were times," Crighton went on, "weren't there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands ... poisoning mead there was only the slightest chance I might drink ..."

"Yeah, well, you still didn't realise who was behind that stuff, did you?" sneered Malty, as Crighton slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in her legs apparently fading, and I struggled fruitlessly, mutely, against the enchantment binding me.

"As a matter of fact, I did," said Crighton. "I was sure it was you."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?" Malty demanded.

"I tried, Danielle. Professor Triphorm has been keeping watch over you on my orders - "

"She hasn't been doing _your_ orders, she promised my father - "

"Of course that is what she would tell you, Danielle, but - "

"She's a double-agent, you stupid old woman, she hasn't been working for you, you just think she is!"

"We must agree to differ on that, Danielle. It so happens that I trust Professor Triphorm - "

"Well, you're losing your grip, then!" sneered Malty. "She's been offering me plenty of help - wanting all the glory for herself - wanting a bit of the action - 'What are you doing? Did you do the necklace, that was stupid, it could have blown everything - ' But I haven't told her what I've been doing in the Room of Needs, she's going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all be over and she won't be the Scarlet Lady's favourite any more, she'll be nothing compared to me, nothing!"

"Very gratifying," said Crighton mildly. "We all like the appreciation for our own hard work, of course ... but you must have had an accomplice, all the same ... someone in Dragsmeade, someone who was able to slip Keith the - the - aaaah ..."

Crighton closed her eyes again and nodded, as though she was about to fall asleep.

" ... of course ... Smoothster. How long has he been under the Imperius Curse?"

"Got there at last, have you?" Malty taunted.

There was another yell from below, rather louder than the last. Malty looked nervously over her shoulder again, then back at Crighton, who went on, "So poor Smoothster was forced to lurk in his own bathroom and pass on that necklace to any Dragon Mort student who entered the room unoccupied? And the poisoned mead ... well, naturally, Smoothster was able to poison it for you before he sent the bottle to Beadu, believing that it was to be my Christmas present ... yes, very neat ... very neat ... poor Mr Match would not, of course, think to check a bottle of Smoothster's ... tell me, how have you been communicating with Smoothster? I thought we had all methods of communication in and out of the school monitored."

"Enchanted coins," said Malty, as though she was compelled to keep talking, though her wand hand was shaking badly. "I had one and he had the other and I could send him messages - "

"Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called themselves Crighton's Army used last year?" asked Crighton. Her voice was light and conversational, but I saw her slip an inch lower down the wall as she said it.

"Yeah, I got the idea from them," said Malty, with a twisted smile. "I got the idea of poisoning mead from that Sackbrain daughter of yours, as well, I heard her talking in the library about Match not recognising potions ..."

"Please do not use that offensive word on my daughter in front of me," said Crighton.

Malty gave a harsh laugh.

"You care about me saying 'Sackbrain' when I'm about to kill you?"

"Yes, I do," said Crighton, and I saw her feet slide a little on the floor as she struggled to remain upright. "But as for being about to kill me, Danielle, you have had several long minutes now. We are quite alone. I am more defenceless now than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted ..."

Malty's mouth contorted involuntarily, as though she had tasted something very bitter.

"Now, about tonight," Crighton went on, "I am a little puzzled about how it happened ... you knew that I had left the school? But of course," she answered her own question, "Smoothster saw me leaving, he tipped you off using your ingenious coins, I'm sure ..."

"That's right," said Malty. "But he said you were just going for a drink, you'd be back ..."

"Well, I certainly did have a drink ... and I came back ... after a fashion ... " mumbled Crighton. "So you decided to set a trap for me?"

"We decided to put the Death Trail over the Tower and get you to hurry up here, to see who'd been killed," said Malty. "And it worked!"

"Well ... yes and no ..." said Crighton. "But am I to take it, then, that nobody has been murdered?"

"Someone's dead," said Malty and her voice seemed to go up an octave as she said it. "One of your people ... I don't know who it was, it was dark ... I stepped over the body ... I was supposed to be up here when you got back, only your Centaur lot got in the way ..."

"Yes, they do that," said Crighton.

There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where Crighton, Malty and I were stood, and my heart thundered unheard in my invisible chest ... someone was dead ... Malty had stepped over the body ... but who was it?

"There is little time, one way or another," said Crighton. "So let us discuss your options, Danielle."

"My options!" said Malty loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand - I'm about to kill you - "

"My dear girl, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" said Malty, and she was suddenly as white as Crighton. "I've got to do it! She'll kill me! She'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Crighton. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lady Zira realised that I suspected you."

Malty winced at the sound of the name.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case she used Legilimency against you," continued Crighton. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other ... no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your intentional victims survived ... I can help you, Danielle."

"No, you can't," said Malty, her wand hand shaking very badly indeed. "Nobody can. She told me to do it or she'll kill me. I've got no choice."

"Come over to the right side, Danielle, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your father tonight to hide him likewise. Your mother is safe at the moment in Azkaban ... when the time comes we can protect her too ... come over to the right side, Danielle ... you are not a killer ..."

Malty stared at Crighton.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" she said slowly. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here ... and you're at my power ... I'm the one with the wand ... you're at my mercy ..."

"No, Danielle," said Crighton quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Malty did not speak. Her mouth was open, her wand hand still trembling. I thought I saw it drop by a fraction -

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later Malty was buffeted out of the way as four people in red robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Still paralysed, my eyes staring unblinkingly, I gazed in terror upon four strangers: it seemed the Love Destroyers had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking woman with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

"Crighton cornered!" she said, and she turned to a stocky, tall man who looked as though he could be her brother and who was grinning eagerly. "Crighton wandless, Crighton alone! Well done, Dani, well done!"

"Good evening, Acantha," said Crighton calmly, as though welcoming the woman to a tea party. "And you brought Abaddon, too ... wonderful ..."

The man gave an angry little titter.

"Think your little jokes'll help you on your deathbed, then?" he jeered.

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Crighton.

"Do it," said the stranger nearest to me, a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose red Love Destroyer robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that I had ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. I could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakeably, of blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails.

"Is that you, Rasputin?" asked Crighton.

"That's right," rasped the other. "Pleased to see me, Crighton?"

"No, I cannot say that I am ..."

Rasputin Silverfur grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

"But you know how much I like kids, Crighton."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual ... you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," said Silverfur. "Shocks you, that, does it, Crighton? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said Crighton. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Danielle here invited you, of all people, into the school where her friends live ..."

"I didn't," breathed Malty. She was not looking at Silverfur; she did not seem to want to even glance at him. "I didn't know he was going to come - "

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Dragon Mort, Crighton," rasped Silverfur. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out ... delicious, delicious ..."

And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Crighton.

"I could do you for others, Crighton ..."

"No," said the fourth Love Destroyer sharply. She had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We've got orders. Dani's got to do it. Now, Dani, and quickly."

Malty was showing less resolution than ever. She looked terrified as she stared into Crighton's face, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as she had slid so far down the rampart wall.

"She's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" said the lopsided woman, to the accompaniment of her brother's wheezy giggles. "Look at her - what's happened to you, then, Crighty?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Acantha," said Crighton. "Old age, in short ... one day, perhaps, it will happen to you ... if you are lucky ..."

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" yelled the Love Destroyer, suddenly violent. "Always the same, weren't yeh, Crighty, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don't even know why the Scarlet Lady's bothering to kill yeh! Come on, Dani, do it!"

But at that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, _"They've blocked the stairs - Reducto! REDUCTO!"_

My heart leapt: so these four had not eliminated all the opposition, but had merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them -

"Now, Dani, quickly!" said the brutal-faced woman angrily.

But Malty's hand was shaking so badly that she could barely aim.

"I'll do it," snarled Silverfur, moving towards Crighton with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

"I said no!" shouted the brutal-faced woman; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious. My heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear me standing there, imprisoned by Crighton's spell - if I could only move, I could aim a curse from under the Cloak -

"Dani, do it, or stand aside so one of us can - " screeched the man, but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Triphorm, her wand clutched in her hand as her icy-blue eyes swept the scene, from Crighton slumped against the wall, to the four Love Destroyers, including the werewolf, and Malty.

"We've got a problem, Triphorm," said the lumpy Acantha, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Crighton, "the girl doesn't seem able - "

But somebody else had spoken Triphorm's name, quite softly.

"Tiana ..."

The sound frightened me beyond anything I had experienced all that evening. For the first time, Crighton was pleading.

Triphorm said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Malty roughly out of the way. The three Love Destroyers fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed.

Triphorm gazed for a moment at Crighton, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the hard lines of her face.

"Tiana ... please ..."

Triphorm raised her wand and pointed it directly at Crighton.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

A jet of green light shot from the end of Triphorm's wand and hit Crighton squarely in the chest. My scream of horror never left me; silent and unmoving, I was forced to watch as Crighton was blasted into the air: for a split second she seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining Trail, and then she fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: So, here we are at last. I don't know why this chapter turned out so short, but it is what it is, but the seventh book will have a few longer chapters from Sian's POV, so keep that in mind. But before I go into this chapter, I just have to say that last chapter, when Sian and Crighton were saying that they weren't ready, that was not referring to Crighton being not ready to die, but was about mother and daughter not being ready to leave each other yet. Also, it is important to note that Sian forgets about the Oracle and the ritual that sends souls to heaven, because she's so filled with pained and is just solely focused on her mother at that part. And another thing I have to add is is that you will not need your tissues for the next chapter, but in two chapters time right until the end you will, so bear that in mind, and you will see the Oracle in a few chapters time. So, bring your tissues, because it's going to get emotional ...**

 **Chapter 30**

 **A Strong Girl With a Frail Heart**

 **SIAN**

Sian ran as fast as she could down the spiral staircase, not looking back, for she knew that if she looked back she would want to go back, and Sian knew that her mother would not want her most dearest child - or any of her children, for that matter - to watch her mother die. Yes, Sian knew. How could she not? So she ran, knocking Dani Malty aside in her haste, not caring if Malty saw her feet or aimed a spell at her, and when she got to the bottom of the staircase, Sian turned away from the sounds of the approaching battle and ran on, looking for a classroom to enter - not just for a place to hide, but a room that had a clear view of the Astronomy Tower. She ran on and ran on, until at last she spotted a door on the left, entered the room, took off her Invisibility Cloak, shut the door quietly and looked around.

The room was empty, which was a relief to Sian, for the last person she wanted to run into at that moment was Weeves. She chucked the Cloak down on to the teacher's desk and approached the window, looking up at the Astronomy Tower, and realised that she was directly opposite the Astronomy Tower. Sian stood at the window, ignoring the reddish glare the Death Trail was emitting and simply stood there, watching and waiting ... watching and waiting ...

Minutes passed, and Sian was still watching the Astronomy Tower. Distant screams from the battle, cries and echoing bangs reached her ears, but she ignored them. The only thing that mattered to Sian was her mother, for she knew that every breath her mother took could well be her last; they were limited, after all. Sian kept her gaze focused on the tower, blocking out the world around her, saving her tears, and the only thought she had, which she kept repeating to herself over and over again in her head was: _I love you, Ma_... _I love you, Ma_ ... _I love you, Ma_ ...

And then, after what felt like hours (though it would have been no more than about half an hour), the blow came: she saw a flash of green light and the shadow of a body fall from the Tower. Sian had expected this, but that did not stop the image of her mother's body falling through the air any less painful: Sian felt as though she had just been stabbed right through the heart with an extremely sharp blade, and instead of pulling it out, the blade remained stuck, which made the pain that much worse. A scream of pure agony tore through Sian, ripping her poor heart out even more. She stood, staring out of the window, eyes wide in terror, steadying herself with one hand on the wall, and the other clutching her heart, as though trying to remove the blade, but the harder she tried, the deeper the blade went ...

Sian didn't know how long she had been standing there, but a thought then entered her head: she had to get to her mother. So she stepped back to the teacher's desk, picked up the Invisibility Cloak, flung it back over herself and bolted from the room, running as fast as she could to the Entrance Hall, dodging spells, the bodies littered all along the corridors and duelling couples left, right and centre as she went, not even bothering to try and hide her feet or defend herself as she ran. It was only until she reached the corridor leading to the Entrance Hall that a huge blast went off, sending her flying down the stairs. Sian could tell that she was hurt, for everything in her body ached, but she ignored that pain for now: she had to get to her mother. So she slowly got to her feet and, once she had steadied herself, Sian, ignoring how parts of her body were screaming in agony, ran as best she could to the Entrance Hall.

Once she got to the Entrance Hall, Sian ran out the front doors, and immediately she headed for the tallest Tower. When she got close enough, she could just see the shadow of a body lying at the bottom of it, and was fortunate that no one had surrounded it yet, for which Sian was grateful, for she wanted to be the first to get to her mother. Sian ran again, throwing the Cloak off of her, not caring where it landed; Sian knew it was silly, but she wanted to look at her mother without anything hiding her from her mother's sight, even though she could no longer _see_.

When Sian reached her mother's body, she knelt down next to her, looking at her mother, still so beautiful despite the signs of age that were showing. A trickle of blood ran down her mother's cheek, which Sian wiped away gently, before she stroke a few loose strands of hair away from her mother's face, just like her mother had done with her so many times before. After she had done that, Sian looked at her mother's body, really looked at it, and what struck her most was that it looked like her mother was sleeping - and in a way, she was, only this was one sleep she would never wake from, for the sleep of death of irreversible.

And just like that, the tears started to fall from her eyes, as she thought of the eyes that would never again gaze at her with such love and warmth, of the smile that would reassure her and make her pleased to see her mother, of the soft voice that would often give her such wisdom and guidance, as well as love, protection, laughter and comfort - much like her arms did when Sian would run to her mother and be enveloped in them, and the hands that would stroke her hair ... all these things were gone to Sian now, never to be heard or felt again, and all because her mother was dead.

Sian's body shook with the force of her sobs, and she laid her head on her mother's chest, directly over her mother's non-beating heart, and she remained like that for a while, holding her mother's dead body and crying, and she ignored all the yells, shouts and explosions that were going on around her; she honestly hoped that someone would kill her so that she would be with her mother again. She didn't care when she heard footsteps softly approaching, nor did she make any attempt to move: why would she when she had every right to openly grieve over her mother? The only time she moved was when she felt movement next to her, and looking up, Sian saw through blurry eyes that it was Kiara who was holding something silver and shiny. What it was, Sian didn't care; her grief was too great for her to care for anything else much at that moment.

Sian then noticed that Kiara was looking at her, and from what she could make of her face, Sian could see Kiara looking shocked and sad, and she could see why, for Kiara had never seen her in such a state before. Sian knew that she was an ugly crier, but she didn't care. Her dear mother, the woman she looked up to, loved and adored, was gone, and though Sian had her siblings, her father and Kopa, she felt more alone than ever.

Then Chris was there and was speaking to Kiara, and Sian then remembered her other siblings, and suddenly realised that they didn't know that their mother was dead! How could she have been so selfish to allow herself to grieve when, not only did her siblings not know about what happened to their mother, but they weren't grieving either! So Sian reluctantly jumped to her feet and started to make her way back to the castle when a voice stopped her.

"Sian?"

Sian turned back and saw Kiara and Chris both looking concernedly at her. She understood why, but she really wished they would both let her go.

"Where are you going?"

"To see my brothers and sisters, Kiara," Sian said, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded. "They don't know about ... well ... this." Sian gestured to where her mother lay, not trusting herself to say the words in case she started crying again.

To her relief, Kiara understood, for she smiled gently and said, "Do you want one of us to come with you?"

"No," Sian said immediately, much harsher than she had intended it. So she said, much gently, "No, Kiara. This is something I have to do on my own." And without another word, Sian turned and ran back to the castle, and as she ran she tried to think of how she could delicately tell her siblings the tragic news of their mother's death, but no ideas came to her. She then reminded herself that her siblings were no longer children and that they were becoming young adults, but that did not make her job any less easier.

Before she turned into the Fat Lord's corridor, Sian stopped, steadied herself and wiped her eyes. She knew her face looked a mess, but it was better than having tears streaming down her cheeks, but that did not stop her staying there for several long minutes, trying to pluck up the courage to turn the corridor and go up to the Fat Lord. Finally, when Sian realised that she couldn't stay there any longer, she turned the corner and strode towards the Fat Lord, who studied her closely, much to her annoyance.

"Password?"

Sian hesitated a moment before saying, "Phoenix tears."

The Fat Lord noticed Sian's pause, for he said, "Are you all right?"

"Please, I've given you the password," Sian said desperately. "Just ... just let me in."

The Fat Lord looked at Sian, concerned, but complied. Sian saw that the common room was packed, which didn't surprise her in the slightest; the ensuing battle that occurred below must have woken everyone in the castle and made them all want to see and to help. As Sian passed the whispering and muttering people in the common room, she saw the people that mattered to her most in the world sitting by the fire: Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave, and as she looked at them all, completely oblivious to the heartbreaking event that had happened, Sian wondered, yet again, how she would approach them. She didn't want to do it, of course she didn't, but what choice did she have? But before she could move, Merida had noticed her.

"Sian!" she called, and the other siblings turned their heads too, looking at Sian curiously. "What are you doing here? We thought you'd be with Kiara."

Sian was grateful that Merida had called her, for it gave Sian a good place to start before she came to the tough stuff, so she walked towards her siblings, smiled slightly and said, "I will be in a minute, but first there's something I have to tell you all first, though ... something important ..."

As she looked at her siblings, Sian realised that she didn't know how to tell them that their mother had died, but the longer she remained silent, the more concerned her siblings became. At last, Merida said, "Sian, what's happened? And why are you all bloody?"

Sian took a deep breath and said, trying to keep her tears at bay, "Listen, we must be brave ... and we must be strong ... for a tragedy has struck our family tonight ..."

Sian saw her siblings look even more worried at those words, and as they all looked at each other, she struggled even more to keep her tears at bay; she didn't care that the whisperers around them had stopped whispering and were looking at them; her siblings were all that mattered right now.

And speaking of Sian's brothers and sisters, they all started talking at once.

"Tragedy? What tragedy?"

"What's happened, Sian? You're scaring us!"

"Has someone died?"

At the word 'died', Sian knew that she could not keep this to herself any more; she could feel herself cracking the longer she stood there, silent. So, taking a deep breath, she said, "Our mother ... can be Headmistress of this school no longer."

Sian watched as the meaning of these words settled into her siblings' minds, and saw many emotions cross their faces, mainly those of anger, sadness and shock. Sian still heard nothing around her, but she remained focused on the people before her. When the others in the common room started speaking again, they could say all they wanted for all she cared, for it was her brothers and sisters that were most important to her; and as she caught sight of Merida, shaking her head as tears started to fall, Sian finally cracked. Tears spilling down her own cheeks, Sian opened her arms and Merida ran at once, both sisters holding each other, finding comfort and support, however small, in each other as they cried.

"She's dead, guys," Sian muttered, so softly that she wasn't sure if her siblings heard her. Then she said a little louder, "Our mother's DEAD!" And then, all the bent-up emotion Sian felt inside of her unleashed itself in a scream of anguish that for anyone hearing it would feel like they had just been kicked in the guts. Sian then felt her other siblings surround her, giving Sian comfort as well as receiving it. After a while, they all let go of each other, drying their eyes as best they could.

"Sian?" Kestrel then asked, her voice a soothing balm to them all. "Do Dad and Chris and Chrissie know?"

"Chris does," Sian said, her voice hoarse again, "but as for Dad and Chrissie, I don't know. But I'm going to find out now. Will you all be all right without me for a bit?" When her brothers and sisters nodded, Sian shot them a small smile and, ignoring the pitying and sad looks from the people around her who moved apart as she walked to the portrait hole, Sian left the common room.

As she went down to the hospital wing, Sian thought about how her father would face her. Would he be a loving father, or would he hate her forever and blame her for her mother's death, even though he knew that she was going to die? Sian hoped he wouldn't, for she had already lost one parent that night; she didn't think her poor heart could handle it if she lost another. But she had not more time to think on this, for the door of the hospital wing was in sight. Taking a deep breath, Sian walked to the door and marched in, ready to face whatever reaction her father was going to give her ...


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: So, here we are with the next chapter. As I said last week, you will not be needing tissues for this chapter, but the next chapter 'til the end of the book you will definitely be needing them. So, here's this chapter and I will be posting again next week, same day as always.**

 **Chapter 31**

 **Flight of the Princess**

 **KIARA**

I felt as though I, too, were hurtling through space; _it could not have happened_ ... _it could not have happened_ ...

"Out of here, quickly," said Triphorm.

She seized Malty by the scruff of the neck and forced her through the door ahead of the rest; Silverfur and the squat brother and sister followed, the latter both panting excitedly. As they vanished through the door I realised I could move again; what was now holding me paralysed against the wall was not magic, but horror and shock. I threw the Invisibility Cloak aside as the brutal-faced Love Destroyer, last to leave the Tower top, was disappearing through the door.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

The Love Destroyer buckled as though hit in the back with something solid, and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but she had barely hit the floor when I was clambering over her and running down the darkener staircase.

Terror tore at my heart ... I had to get to Crighton and I had to catch Triphorm ... I could reverse what had happened if I had them both together ... Crighton could not have died ...

I leapt the last ten steps of the spiral staircase and stopped where I landed, my wand raised: the dimly lit corridor was full of dust; half the ceiling seemed to have fallen in and a battle was raging before me, but even as I attempted to make out who was fighting whom, I heard the hated voice shout, _"It's over, time to go!"_ and I saw Triphorm disappearing round the corner at the far end of the corridor; she and Malty seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed. As I plunged after them, one of the fighters detached themselves from the fray and flew at me: it was the werewolf, Silverfur. He was on top of me before I could raise my wand: I fell backwards, with filthy matted hair in my face, the stench of sweat and blood filling my nose and mouth, hot greedy breath at my throat -

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

I felt Silverfur collapse against me; with a stupendous effort I pushed the werewolf off and on to the floor as a jet of green light came flying towards me; I ducked and ran, headfirst, into the fight. My feet met something squashy and slippery on the floor and I stumbled: there were two bodies lying there, face down in a pool of blood, but there was no time to investigate: I now saw brown hair flying in front of me: Chris was locked in combat with the lumpy Love Destroyer, Acantha: Acantha, who was throwing hex after hex at him while he dodged them: Acantha was giggling, enjoying the sport: " _Crucio_ \- _Crucio_ \- you can't dance forever, handsome - "

 _"Impedimenta!"_ I yelled.

My jinx hit Acantha in the chest: she gave a piglike squeal of pain, was lifted off her feet and slammed into the opposite wall, slid down it and fell out of sight behind Chrissie, Professor Darbus and Meers, each of whom was battling a separate Love Destroyer: behind them, I saw Todd and my parents battling an enormous blonde witch who was sending curses flying in all directions, so that they ricocheted off the walls around them, cracking stone, shattering the nearest window -

"Kiara, where did you come from?" Chris cried, but there was no time for me to give him an answer. I put my head down and sprinted forwards, narrowly avoiding a blast that erupted over my head, showering us all in bits of the wall: Triphorm must not escape, I must catch up with Triphorm -

"Take _that_!" shouted Professor Darbus, and I glimpsed the male Love Destroyer, Abaddon, sprinting away down the corridor with his arms over his head, his sister right behind him. I launched myself after them, but my foot caught on something and next moment I was lying across someone's legs: looking around, I saw Nikita's pale, round face flat against the floor.

"Nikita, are you - ?"

"'M'all right," muttered Nikita, who was clutching her stomach, "Kiara ... Triphorm 'n' Malty ... ran past ..."

"I know, I'm on it!" I said, aiming a hex from the floor at the enormous blonde Love Destroyer who was causing most of the chaos: the woman gave a howl of pain as the spell hit her in the face; she wheeled round, staggered and then pounded away after the brother and sister.

I scrambled up from the floor and began to sprint along the corridor, ignoring the bangs issuing from behind me, the yells of the others to come back, and the mute call of the figures on the ground, whose fate I did not yet know ...

I skidded round the corner, my shoes slippery with blood; Triphorm had an immense head-start - was it possible that she had already entered the Cabinet in the Room of Needs, or had the Order made steps to secure it, to prevent the Love Destroyers retreating that way? I could hear nothing but my own pounding feet, my own hammering heart as I sprinted along the next empty corridor, but then I spotted a bloody footprint which showed that at least one of the fleeing Love Destroyers was heading towards the front doors - perhaps the Room of Needs was indeed blocked -

I skidded round another corner and a curse flew past me: I dived behind a suit of armour which exploded; I saw the brother and sister Love Destroyers running down the marble staircase ahead and I aimed jinxes at them, but merely hit several bewigged witches on the landing, who ran screeching into neighbouring paintings; as I leapt over the wreckage of armour I heard more shouts and screams; other people within the castle seemed to have awoken ...

I pelted towards a short cut, hoping to overtake the brother and sister and close in on Triphorm and Malty, who must surely have reached the grounds by now; remembering to leap the vanishing step halfway down the concealed staircase I burst through a tapestry at the bottom and out into a corridor where a number of bewildered and pyjama-clad Badger-Stripes stood.

"Kiara! We heard a noise and someone said something about the Death Trail - " began Emily Mac.

"Out of the way!" I yelled, knocking two girls aside as I sprinted towards the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase. The oak front doors had been blasted open; there were smears of blood on the flagstones and several terrified students stood huddled against the walls, one or two still cowering with their arms over their faces; the giant Lion-Heart hour glass had been hit by a curse and the rubies within were still falling, with a loud rattle, on to the flagstones below ...

I flew across the Entrance Hall and out into the dark grounds: I could just make out three figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate - by the looks of them, the huge blonde Love Destroyer and, some way ahead of her, Triphorm and Malty ...

The cold night air ripped at my lungs as I tore after them; I saw a flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted my quarry; I did not know what it was but I continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse -

Another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and I understood: Mina had emerged from her cabin and was trying to stop the Love Destroyers escaping, and though every breath seemed to shred my lungs and the stitch in my chest was like fire, I sped up as an unbidden voice in my head said: _not Mina_ ... _not Mina too_ ...

Something caught me hard in the small of the back and I fell forwards, my face smacking the ground, blood pouring out of both nostrils: I knew, even as I rolled over, my wand ready, that the brother and sister had overtaken using my shortcut and were closing in behind me ...

 _"Impedimenta!"_ I yelled as I rolled over again, crouching close to the dark ground, and miraculously my jinx hit one of them, who stumbled and fell, tripping up the other; I leapt to my feet and sprinted on, after Triphorm ...

And now I saw the vast outline of Mina, illuminated by the light of the crescent moon revealed suddenly from behind the clouds; the blonde Love Destroyer was aiming curse after curse at the gamekeeper, but Mina's immense strength and the toughened skin she had inherited from her giant father, seemed to be protecting her; Triphorm and Malty, however, were still running; they would soon be beyond the gates, able to Disapparate -

I tore past Mina and her opponent, took aim at Triphorm's back and yelled, _"Stupefy!"_

I missed; the jet of light soared past Triphorm's head; Triphorm shouted, _"Run, Dani!"_ and turned; twenty yards apart she and I looked at each other before we raised our wand simultaneously.

 _"Cruc - "_

But Triphorm parried the curse, knocking me backwards off my feet before I could complete it; I rolled over and scrambled back up again as the huge Love Destroyer behind me yelled, _"Incendio!"_ ; I heard an explosive bang and a dancing orange light spilled over all of us: Mina's house was on fire.

"Gnasher's in there, yeh evil - !" Mina bellowed.

 _"Cruc - "_ I yelled for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Triphorm blocked the spell again; I could see her sneering.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Pride-Lander!" she shouted over the rushing of the flames, Mina's yells and the wild yelping of the trapped Gnasher. "You haven't got the nerve or the ability - "

 _"Incarc - "_ I roared, but Triphorm deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of her arm.

"Fight back!" I screamed at her. "Fight back, you cowardly - "

"Coward, did you call me, Pride-Lander?" shouted Triphorm. "Your mother would never attack me unless it was four on one, what will you call her, I wonder?"

 _"Stupe - "_

"Blocked again, and again, and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Pride-Lander!" sneered Triphorm, deflecting the curse once more. "Now, _come_!" she shouted at the huge Love Destroyer behind me. "It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up - "

 _"Impedi - "_

But before I could finish the jinx, excruciating pain hit me; I keeled over in the grass, someone was screaming, I would surely die of this agony, Triphorm was going to torture me to death or madness -

"No!" roared Triphorm's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; I lay curled on the dark grass, clutching my wand and panting; somewhere above me Triphorm was shouting, "Have you forgotten our orders? Pride-Lander belongs to the Scarlet Lady - we are to leave her! Go! Go!"

And I felt the ground shudder under my face as the brother and sister and the enormous Love Destroyer obeyed, running towards the gates. I uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: in that instant, I cared not whether I lived or died; pushing myself to my feet again, I staggered blindly towards Triphorm, the woman I hated as much as I hated Zira herself -

 _"Sectum - "_

Triphorm flicked her wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but I was mere feet away now and I could see Triphorm's face clearly at last: she was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all my powers of concentration, I thought, _"Levi - "_

"No, Pride-Lander!" screamed Triphorm. There was a loud bang and I was soaring backwards, hitting the ground hard again, and this time my wand flew out of my hand. I could hear Mina yelling and Gnasher howling as Triphorm closed in and looked down on me where I lay, wandless and defenceless as Crighton had been. Triphorm's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before she had cursed Crighton. Before she could say or do anything more to me, however, two figures jumped between myself and Triphorm, and looking up, I saw that the figures were my parents, both of whom had their wands pointed at Triphorm and were looking furious.

"Get the hell away from our daughter, Triphorm!" my father growled, striking the ground at Triphorm's feet with his wand; Triphorm was thrown backwards, but she quickly got up again, looking angrier than ever.

"Oh good, the Pride-Lander seniors are here!" sneered Triphorm. "You know, it's good that you both showed up in time to stop your _darling_ daughter here from using my own spells against me - I, the Half-Blood Princess! And she had the nerve to use my inventions on me, just like her filthy mother - "

My father, forgetting all about his wand, struck Triphorm across the face, looking angrier than I had ever seen him; Triphorm clutched at her stinging cheek, looking at my father in shock.

"You do not get to talk to my wife and daughter that way!" he shouted at Triphorm. "You know, I once thought long ago that you and I could ... but I see now as I saw all those years ago that I made the right choice. You disgust me, Triphorm, and you are absolutely _nothing_ to me!"

Triphorm looked shocked and hurt at my father's words; I was shocked that he had once had a thing for Triphorm, but my rage and contempt for her soon took over, and I said, "What's the matter? Too scared to hurt my father after what he said to you? Why don't you kill us and get it over with like you killed her, or are you too cowardly to - ?"

"DON'T - " screamed Triphorm, her attention back on me, and her face was suddenly inhuman, as though she was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind us, " - CALL ME COWARD!"

And she slashed at the air: I felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit me across the face and I was slammed backwards into the ground. Spits of light burst in front of my eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from my body, then I heard a rush of wings above me and something enormous obscured the stars: Noelani had flown at Triphorm, who staggered backwards as the razor-sharp claws slashed at her. As I raised myself into a sitting position, my head still swimming with its last contact with the ground, I saw Triphorm running as hard as she could - my parents both kneeling down beside me, watching her - the enormous beast flapping behind her and screeching as I had never heard her screech.

I started to get up, but Mum forced me back down on to the ground, and my father laid a hand on my shoulder and said softly, "She's not worth it, sweetheart." I knew he was right, but that did not stop me from being angry at Triphorm for what she had done. Moments later, my parents and I turned our heads to the gates, where the Hippogriff was screeching as she circled the gates: Triphorm had managed to Disapparate just beyond the school's boundaries.

"Mina," I muttered, still dazed, looking around. "MINA?"

"I'll go and help Mina, Kiara, don't worry," my father said. "Nala, you stay here with Kiara."

Mum nodded, and my father ran to Mina's cabin, where I could just see the woman herself emerging from out of the flames carrying Gnasher on her back. I slumped against my mother in relief, who put her arms around me, reassuring me that everything was all right. Together, Mum and I watched as my father helped Mina put out the flames. Once the fire had been extinguished, my father and Mina made their way over to where Mum and I were sat, Gnasher trotting along behind them.

Spotting me, my father ran to me and held me tight. Withdrawing slightly, he surveyed me closely and said, "Thank God you're all right! Does anything hurt particularly bad?"

"No, Daddy," I panted, scratching Gnasher behind the ears when she came up to me. "My whole body aches ... but I'll be all right." I smiled at him, then turned to Mina and asked, "And you, Mina? Are you all right?"

"Course I am ..." she said, "take more'n that ter finish me."

I smiled at Mina, but my attention turned to my mother, who was stroking my hair and was looking intently at me. "Kiara," she said, "before, when we faced Triphorm ... you said that she killed someone - a woman. Why would you say that?"

I looked into each of the adults' faces, all of whom were staring at me intently. I wanted to tell them, I really did, but what could I say. _Hey, Crighton's dead and Triphorm killed her!_ No, they wouldn't believe me. I shook my head, not knowing what to say, but I didn't have to say anything, for through the silence the sounds of loud, harsh sobbing reached us, and I knew where they were issuing from. I saw my parents and Mina look at each other, each of them wearing an expression of mixed shock and curiosity. Then, after a few moments, my parents helped me up and, with their arms around me, we started to walk back to the castle.

I was still shaking uncontrollably as we walked, and as we directed our steps back to the castle, I saw that many of its windows were lit: I could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as people moved from room to room, telling each other that Love Destroyers had got in, that the Death Trail was shining over Dragon Mort, that somebody must have been killed ... and it didn't matter that I couldn't tell my parents or Mina what had happened to Crighton, for they were going to find out soon enough anyway, for the howling sobs were growing louder and louder as we walked, and I could only imagine who it was ...

The oak front doors stood open ahead of us, light flooding out on to the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were creeping down the steps, looking around nervously for some sign of the Love Destroyers who had fled into the night. My eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest tower, where the howling cries were issuing. I imagined that I could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though I was really too far away to see anything of the sort. Even as I stared wordlessly at the place where I thought Crighton's body must lie, however, I saw people beginning to move towards it, and it was there that my parents, Mina and I directed ourselves.

My parents, Mina and I walked silently together, with me still feeling the aches and pains in my face and my legs where the various hexes of the last half hour had hit me, though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near me was suffering them. What was real and inescapable was the awful pressing feeling in my chest ...

My parents, Mina and I moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students had left a gap.

I hear my parents' and Mina's moans of pain and shock, but I did not stop; I felt my parents' arms drop slowly from around my shoulders as I walked slowly forwards until I reached the place where Crighton lay, her chest covered by a sobbing girl with dark brown hair, and I crouched down beside them.

I had known that there was no hope from the moment that the Body-Bind Curse that Crighton had placed upon me had lifted, and I knew that it could have happened only because its caster was dead; but there was still no preparation for seeing her here, spread-eagled, broken: one of the greatest witches I had ever, or would ever, meet (the second being Sian).

Crighton's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of her arms and legs, she might have been sleeping. I then gazed over Sian's back and down at the wise old face and absorbed the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again would Crighton speak to me, never again could she help ...

The crowd murmured behind me. I then noticed Sian looking at me, her faces, arms and legs had a few scratches here and there, and what I saw shocked me, for instead of the strong, wise woman I expected to see next to me, I saw a lost little girl staring back at me, looking scared, vulnerable and ... alone, with unashamed tears streaming down her cheeks. I didn't know what to say, for she looked exactly how I felt. After a while, Sian looked away, and I became aware that I was kneeling upon something hard and I looked down. The locket we had managed to steal so many hours before had fallen out of Crighton's pocket. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it had hit the ground. And although I could not feel more shock or horror or sadness than I felt already, I knew, as I picked it up, that there was something wrong ...

I turned the locket over in my hands. This was neither as large as the locket I remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings upon it, no sign of the ornate S that was supposed to be Snake-Eyes' mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside but for a scrap of faded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should have been.

Automatically, without really thinking about what I was doing, I pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the many wands that had now been lit behind me:

 _To the Scarlet Lady,_

 _I know I will be dead long before you read this but it want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more._

 _O.B.W._

I neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing mattered: this was not a Horcrux. Crighton had weakened herself by drinking that terrible potion for nothing. I crumpled the parchment in my hand and my eyes burned with tears as behind me Gnasher began to howl.


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: So, here is another chapter. Time to bring your tissues again for it's about to get emotional again. I decided to split this chapter because it's quite long altogether and it's better if it's split, so enjoy this chapter (as much as you can), and I'll be posting again next week. Oh, and one more thing, this book will be finished in two weeks time, so that's what's going to happen. Enjoy the chapter!**

 **Chapter 32**

 **The Phoenix Lament - Part 1**

 **KIARA**

"Kiara, come here ..."

"No."

"Kiara, you can't stay here ..."

"Your mother's right, Kiara," said my father steadily, "you can't stay here ... come away now ..."

"No."

I did not want to leave Crighton's side, nor did I want to leave Sian's; I did not want to move anywhere. My father's hand on my shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, "Kiara, come on."

A slightly smaller and warmer hand had enclosed mine and was pulling me upwards. I obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as I walked blindly back through the crowd did I realise, from a trace of sandalwood through the air, that it was Chris who was leading me back to the castle, my parents following. Incomprehensible voices battered me, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Chris, my parents and I walked on, back up the steps into the Entrance Hall: faces swam on the edges of my vision, people were peering at me, whispering, wondering, and Lion-Heart rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as we made our way towards the marble staircase.

Just then, someone ran past us to the marble staircase: it was Sian who was dashing for the stairs.

"Sian!" I called to her. She stopped when she heard my voice and turned back to face us; her eyes were puffy and red but she was no longer crying. "Where are you going?"

"To see my siblings," Sian croaked. "They have to know."

"Do you want any of us to come with you?"

"No!" Sian barked, then realising how harsh her voice sounded, she sighed and said in a more gentler tone, "No, this is something I have to do alone." Sian then smiled briefly, before turning round and dashing up the marble staircase.

Chris, my parents and I watched her until she vanished from sight. My heart went out to her; I could only imagine the pain she was in. After a moment or two, I turned to Chris and asked, "So, where are we going?"

"To the hospital wing," he answered.

"But we're not hurt," I said.

"It's Darbus' orders," said Chris. "Everyone's up there, Chrissie and Meers and everyone - well, everyone apart from Kestrel, anyway - "

That got my attention. "Kestrel? Why is she not with everyone in the hospital wing?"

"She went up to the common room after the Love Destroyers fled," he explained. "Sian wasn't there, as she was with you and Ma, so she went to check on our other siblings instead."

"Actually, Sian didn't go with us. Your mother wouldn't let her."

"Why?"

"I dunno," I said. "It was weird, 'cause first Crighton was all for Sian coming with us, then she froze, went pale and asked to talk to Sian quietly, which they did, and when they came back to me Crighton said that Sian had to stay here. I didn't understand, for I didn't ask why, but after seeing what was in that cave, I understand Crighton's reasoning now."

Fear then stirred in my chest again: I had forgotten the inert figures I had left behind.

"Chris, who else is dead?"

"Don't worry, none of us."

"But the Death Trail - Malty said she stepped over a body - "

"She stepped over Sam, but it's all right, she's alive."

There was something in his voice, however, that I knew boded ill.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure ... she's a - a bit of a mess, that's all. Silverfur attacked her. Matron said she won't - won't look the same any more ..." Chris' voice trembled a little. "We don't really know what the after-effects will be - I mean, Silverfur being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time."

"But the others ... there were other bodies on the ground ..."

"Nikita's in the hospital wing, but Matron thinks she'll make a full recovery, and Professor Winds was knocked out, but she's all right, just a bit shaky. She insisted on going off to look after the Raven-Wings. And a Love Destroyer's dead, she got hit by a Killing Curse the huge blonde one was firing off everywhere - Kiara, if it hadn't been for your Felix potion, I think we'd all have been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us - "

We had reached the hospital wing: pushing open the doors, I saw Nikita lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Chrissie, Keziah, Lincoln, Todd and Meers were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Chrissie ran to me and hugged me; Meers moved forwards too, looking anxious.

"I'm fine ... how's Sam?"

Nobody answered. I looked over Chrissie's shoulder and saw an unrecognisable face lying on Sam's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that she looked grotesque. Matron was dabbing at her wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. I remembered how Triphorm had mended Malty's _Sectumsempra_ wounds so easily with her wand.

"Can't you fix them with a charm or something?" I asked Matron.

"No charm will work on these," said Matron. "I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."

"But she wasn't bitten at the full moon," said Chrissie, who had let go of me and was looking into her cousin's face as though she could somehow force her to mend just by staring. "Silverfur hadn't transformed, so surely Sam won't be a - a real - ?"

She looked uncertainly at Meers.

"No, I don't think Sam will be a true werewolf," said Meers, "but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and - and Sam might have some wolfish characteristics from now on."

"Ma might know something that'd work, though," Chrissie said. "Where is she? Sam fought those maniac's on Ma's orders, Ma owes her, she can't leave her in this state - "

"Chrissie - Ma's dead," said Chris.

"No!" Meers looked wildly from Chris to my parents to me, as though hoping I might contradict him, but when I did not, Meers collapsed into a chair beside Sam's bed, his hands over his face. I had never seen Meers lose control before; I felt as though I was intruding upon something private, indecent; I turned to look at Chrissie instead, and when she caught my eye and I confirmed what Chris had said, she burst into tears and Chris immediately went to her, enveloping her in his arms.

Looking up from Chris' shoulder, Chrissie's eyes searched for one person in particular who wasn't there. "W-where's Sian? Where is she?"

"Don't worry, Chrissie," I said. "She's in the common room, telling your brothers and sisters about your mother as we speak."

"She should tell Dad what happened when he gets here," said Chrissie shakily. "She's the oldest. If our father has to hear it from someone, it should be Sian." Chris nodded in agreement at his sister's words.

"How did Crighton die?" Todd then whispered. "How did it happen?"

"Triphorm killed her," I said. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Trail was ... Crighton was ill, she was weak, but I think she realised it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. She immobilised me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak - and then Malty came through the door and disarmed her - "

Chris and Lincoln both bowed their heads. Chrissie had silent tears running down her cheeks. Keziah's cheeks had paled.

" - more Love Destroyers arrived - and then Triphorm - and Triphorm did it. The Avada Kedavra." I could not go on. I turned to my father, needing his warmth, support and comfort, which he gladly gave to me. Matron burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except Chris, who whispered, "Shh! Listen!"

Gulping, Matron pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way I had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And I felt, as I had felt about the phoenix song before, that the music was inside me, not without. It was my own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.

How long we all stood there, listening, I did not know, nor why it seemed to ease our pain a little to listen to the sound of our morning, but it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor Darbus entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: there were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped.

"Matt is on his way," she said, and the spell of the music was broken: we all roused ourselves as though coming out of trances, turning again to look at Sam, or else rub our own eyes, shaking our heads. "Kiara, what happened? According to Mina you were with Professor Crighton when she - when it happened. She says Professor Crighton was involved in some - "

"Triphorm killed Crighton," I said.

She stared at me for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Matron, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forwards, conjuring a chair from thin air, which she pushed under Darbus.

"Triphorm," repeated Darbus faintly, falling into the chair. "We all wondered ... but she trusted ... always ... _Triphorm_ ... I can't believe it ..."

"Triphorm was a highly accomplished Occlumens," said Meers, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "We always knew that."

"But Crighton always swore she was on our side!" whispered Todd. "I always thought Crighton must know something about Triphorm that we didn't ..."

"She always hinted that she had an iron-clad reason for trusting Triphorm," muttered Professor Darbus, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. "I mean ... with Triphorm's history ... of course people were bound to wonder ... but Crighton told me explicitly that Triphorm's repentance was absolutely genuine ... wouldn't hear a word against her!"

"I'd love to know what Triphorm told her to convince her," said Todd.

"I know," I said, looking up, and they all turned to stare at me; I turned away from the others, looking into the eyes of my parents. "Triphorm passed Zira the information that made her hunt you two down. Then Triphorm told Crighton she hadn't realised what she was doing, she was really sorry she had done it, sorry that she almost killed you."

"And Crighton believed that?" said Mum incredulously. "Crighton believed Triphorm was sorry that Zira came after out family? Triphorm and I detest each other ..."

"And she didn't think you were worth a damn either, Daddy," I said, "because she called you a - "

"Yes, thank you, Kiara," said my father loudly. "I know perfectly well what Triphorm said to me. We don't have to go through it again."

Nobody asked my father and I what we meant or how I knew what I knew. All of us seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.

Professor Darbus then looked around. "Where's the Eldest Dawson Girl?" she asked.

"In the common room, telling our siblings," said Chrissie; Professor Darbus nodded her head in understanding. "I'm sure she'll be here soon, though, ma'am."

"We've all agreed that Sian should be the one to tell our father what happened when he gets here," said Chris.

"A wise decision on the whole," said Professor Darbus. Then, looking disoriented and twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands, she moaned, "Oh, this is all my fault, all my fault. I sent Wanda to fetch Triphorm tonight, I actually sent for her to come and help us! If I hadn't alerted Triphorm to what was going on, she might never have joined forces with the Love Destroyers. I don't think she knew they were there before Wanda told her, I don't think she knew they were coming."

"It isn't your fault, Deidre," said Meers firmly. "We all wanted more help, we were glad to think that Triphorm was on her way ..."

"So when she arrived at the fight, she joined in on the Love Destroyers' side?" I asked, wanting every detail of Triphorm's duplicity and infamy, feverishly collecting more reasons to hate her, to swear vengeance.

"I don't know exactly how it happened," said Professor Darbus distractedly. "It's all so confusing ... Crighton told us she would be leaving the school for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors just in case ... Timon, Sam, Nanna, Simba and Nala were to join us ... and so we patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every secret passageway out of the school was covered. We knew nobody could fly in. There were powerful enchantments on every entrance into the castle. I still don't know how the Love Destroyers can possibly have entered ..."

"I do," I said, and I explained, briefly, about the pair of Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway they formed. "So they got in through the Room of Needs."

Almost against my will I glanced from Chris to Chrissie, both of whom looked devastated.

"I messed up, Kiara," said Chrissie bleakly. "We did like you told us: we checked the Scallywag's Map and we couldn't see Malty on it, so we thought she must be in the Room of Needs, so me, Kestrel and Nikita went to keep watch on it ... but Malty got past us, about an hour after we started keeping watch. She was on her own, clutching her Hand of Glory, that gives light only to the holder. Anyway, she must have been checking whether the coast was clear to let the Love Destroyers out, because the moment she saw us, she threw those Crystal Blinders into the air," she added bitterly, "which reminds me, I must have a word with Tanya and Geri about who they let buy their products. So, we were staggering blindly through the light, trying to find a way out of the corridor again, and meanwhile we could hear people rushing past us. Obviously Malty could see perfectly because of that Hand and was guiding them, but we didn't dare use any curses or anything in case we hit each other, and by the time we reached a corridor that was lit by normal light, they'd gone."

"Luckily," said Meers, "Chrissie, Kestrel and Nikita ran into us almost immediately and told us what had happened. We found the Love Destroyers minutes later, heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. Malty obviously hadn't expected more people to be on the watch; she seemed to have exhausted her supply of Crystal Blinders, at any rate. A fight broke out, they scattered and we gave chase. One of them, Gibber, broke away and headed up the Tower stairs - "

"To set off the Trail?" I asked.

"She must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left the Room of Needs," said Meers. "But I don't think Gibber liked the idea of waiting up there alone for Crighton, because she came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed me."

"So if Chrissie was watching the Room of Needs with Kestrel and Nikita," I said, turning to Chris, "were you - ?"

"Outside Triphorm's office, yes," whispered Chris, his eyes wide, "with Lincoln and Keziah. We hung around for ages outside it and nothing happened ... we didn't know what was going on upstairs, Chrissie had taken the Scallywag's Map ... it was nearly midnight when Professor Winds came sprinting down into the dungeons. She was shouting about Love Destroyers in the castle, I don't think she really registered that Lincoln, Keziah and I were there at all, she just burst her way into Triphorm's office and we heard her saying that Triphorm had to go back with her and help and then we heard a loud thump and Triphorm came hurtling out of her room and - and - "

"What?" I urged Chris, as he groaned.

"I was so stupid, Kiara!" Chris whispered. "She said Professor Winds had collapsed and that we should go and take care of her while she - while she went to help fight the Love Destroyers - "

Chris began to pace, annoyance etched across every line of his face, and when he spoke again his tone was angry.

"We went into her office to see if we could help Professor Winds and found her unconscious on the floor ... and, oh, it's so obvious now, Triphorm must have stupefied Winds, but we didn't realise, Kiara, we didn't realise, we just let Triphorm go!"

"It's not your fault," my father said firmly. "Chris, had you not obeyed Triphorm and got out of the way, she would probably have killed you, Lincoln and Keziah."

"So then she came upstairs," I said, watching Triphorm in my mind's eye running up the marble staircase, her red robes billowing behind her as ever, pulling her wand from under her cloak as she ascended, "and she found the place where you were all fighting ..."

"We were in trouble, we were losing," said Todd in a low voice. "Gibber was down, but the rest of the Love Destroyers seemed ready to fight to the death. Nikita had been hurt, Sam had been savaged by Silverfur ... it was all dark ... curses flying everywhere ... the Malty girl had vanished, she must have slipped past us, up the stairs to the Tower ... then more of them ran after her, but one of them blocked the stairs behind them with some kind of curse ... Nikita ran at it and got thrown up into the air - "

"None of us could break through," said Chrissie, "and that massive Love Destroyer was still firing off jinxes all over the place, they were bouncing off the walls and barely missing us ..."

"And then Triphorm was there," said Todd, "and then she wasn't - "

"I saw her running towards us, but that huge Love Destroyer's jinx missed me afterwards and I ducked and lost track of things," said Chrissie.

"I saw her running straight through the cursed barrier as though it wasn't there," said Meers. "I tried to follow her but was thrown back just like Nikita ..."

"She must have known a spell we didn't," said Professor Darbus. "After all - she was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher ... I just assumed that she was in a hurry to chase after the Love Destroyers who'd escaped up to the Tower ..."

"She was," I said savagely, "but to help them, not stop them ... and I'll bet you had to have a Death Trail to get through that barrier - so what happened when she came back down?"

"Well, the big Love Destroyer had just fired off a hex that caused half the ceiling to fall in, and also broke the curse blocking the stairs," said Meers. "We all ran forwards - those of us who were still standing, anyway - and then Triphorm and the girl emerged out of the dust - obviously, none of us attacked them - "

"We just let them pass," said Todd in a hollow voice, "we thought they were being chased by the Love Destroyers - and next thing, the other Love Destroyers and Silverfur were back and we were fighting again - I thought I heard Triphorm shout something, but I don't know what - "

"She shouted, 'It's over,'" I said. "She'd done what she'd meant to do."

We all fell silent. Kenna's lament was still echoing over the dark grounds outside. As the music reverberated upon the air, unbidden, unwelcome thoughts slunk into my mind ... had they taken Crighton's body from the foot of the Tower yet? What would happen to it next? Where would it rest? I clenched my fists tightly in my pockets. I could feel the small cold lump of the fake Horcrux against the knuckles of my right hand.

The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making all of us jump: Mr Dawson strode up the ward, Ferdinand just behind him, his handsome face terrified.

"Matt - " said Professor Darbus, jumping up and hurrying to greet him and Ferdinand, "I am so sorry - "

"Sam," whispered Ferdinand, hurrying past Professor Darbus as he caught sight of Sam's face. "Oh, _Sam_!"

Meers and Todd had got up hastily and retreated so that Mr Dawson and Ferdinand could get nearer to the bed. Ferdinand bent over his fiancée and pressed his lips to her bloody forehead.

"You said Silverfur attacker 'er?" Ferdinand asked Professor Darbus. "But he 'adn't transformed? So what does zat mean? What will 'appen to Sam?"

"We don't know yet," said Professor Darbus, looking helplessly at Meers.

"There will probably be some contamination, Ferdinand," said Meers. "It is an odd case, certainly ... we don't know what her behaviour might be like when she wakes up ..."

Ferdinand took the nasty-smelling ointment from Matron and began dabbing at Sam's wounds.

"And - and my wife ... I heard whispers about her on the way up to this room ..." said Mr Dawson. "Deidre, is it true ... is she really ...?"

But before Professor Darbus could offer him any sort of answer, a small voice behind us said, "Dad?"

We all spun round: Sian was standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her face, looking desperately at her father, who hesitated for a moment before he ran to his eldest child and held her tightly. Father and daughter remained like this for a few moments, before Sian broke away, turning her back on her father and facing the window.

"Sian?" said Mr Dawson, confused at his daughter's behaviour.

Sian took a deep breath and said, "I suppose you hate me now, don't you, Dad?"

That shocked and surprised Mr Dawson, and looking around I saw everyone else wearing similar expressions.

" _Hate_ you?" said Mr Dawson. "No, I don't - I could never - why would you - ?"

"I understand if you do, because I look and act a lot like Ma ... but I hope you don't ... I've already lost Ma ... and I don't want to loose you, too ... nor does anyone else ..."

Mr Dawson was frozen in place by his daughter's words, and Sian, not hearing anything from her father, crumpled: her face fell and a stray tear trickled down her cheek. As if seeing his daughter's sadness and hopelessness, Mr Dawson strode over to her and held her tightly; Sian, her face buried in her father's chest, seemed shocked by his actions, until he said something, something that meant more to Sian that, though she would never admit it, I'm sure, meant more to her than the words 'I love you' ever could.

 _"Never."_

Mr Dawson said it so fiercely that Sian closed her eyes, smiling, as tears of relief spilled down her cheeks.

"I could never hate you or abandon you or our family, Sian," Mr Dawson said into her hair. "I love you and our family all so much."

This seemed to strike a chord in both of them, for Mr Dawson and Sian both raised their heads and turned to look at Chris and Chrissie, who they held their arms out to; the two siblings needed no asking and immediately ran to their father and eldest sister, and for a while they just stood like that, holding each other tightly.

They were suddenly rudely interrupted by Ferdinand, who said, "Well, now zat zat eez all taken care of, we can move on to ze most important person 'ere - "

"Most important person?" said Sian suddenly, letting go of her father, Chris and Chrissie and turning to face Ferdinand, outraged. "Your fiancée got attacked by a werewolf, which is a terrible thing that has happened to her, but she still lives! My mother does not!" Sian then sneered and went on, "But I don't know why you're so concerned about Sam ... it's not like the wedding will go ahead now, anyway - "

"'Ow dare you!" said Ferdinand, glaring at Sian. "'Ow _dare_ you say zat ze wedding will not go ahead because of zis! Do you 'onestly think that I care about the way she looks? Of course I don't! Zere are more attractive aspects of 'er than just those, Sian, zat I know! I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my wife is brave!"

Ferdinand then turned his attention back to Sam. Sian watched him with a most peculiar expression. None of us said anything. Then, after a long pause, Sian spoke again.

"Ferdinand, I'm sorry about what I said. I was just - "

"I know," said Ferdinand, looking gently at Sian. "I am sorry, too. What I said was uncalled for. I am truly sorry about your muzzer, Sian. She was a great witch and was always nice to me."

Thank you." Sian and Ferdinand then shared a smile, and that was all that was said between them.

"You see!" said a strained voice. Todd was glaring at Meers. "He still wants to marry her, even though she's been bitten! He doesn't care!"

"It's different," said Meers, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. "Sam will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely - "

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Todd, seizing the front of Meers' robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times ..."

And the meaning of Todd's Patronus and her mouse-coloured hair, and the reason she had come running to find Crighton when she heard a rumour someone had been attacked by Silverfur, all suddenly became clear to me; it has not been Pumbaa that Todd had fallen in love with after all ...

"And I've told _you_ a million times," said Meers, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor ... too dangerous ..."

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Timon," said Mum.

"I am not being ridiculous," said Timon steadily. "Todd deserves somebody young and whole."

"But she wants you," said my father with a small smile. "And after all, Timon, young and whole people do not necessarily remain so." He gestured sadly at Sam, lying on the bed.

"This is ... not the moment to discuss it," said Meers, avoiding everybody's eyes as he looked around distractedly. "Crighton is dead ..."

"Crighton would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world," said Professor Darbus curtly, just as the hospital doors opened again and Mina walked in.

Mina's face was soaking and swollen; she was shaking with tears, a vast spotted handkerchief in her hand.

"I've ... I've tried ter move the body, Professor," she choked, "but I couldn'. A man forbade me ter. He said I couldn' move it until the ceremony had been done."

"A man?" said Professor Darbus suddenly. "Who is he, Mina? What does he look like?"

"Well, he didn' g-give his name, but he's b-bald, quite short and wore a light-green robe - "

There was a loud gasp from Sian: she and Chrissie were looking at each other as though they could not believe what they were hearing.

"What is it, girls?" Professor Darbus asked them.

"We know who that man is, Professor," said Sian. "He's the Oracle, and he's here to perform the ritual that will take my mother's soul to the next life."


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: So, when reading Half-Blood Prince, did anyone else feel confused that none of the teachers or Harry didn't take into account the fact that now Dumbledore's dead they might not get a say in what would happen to Hogwarts, seeing as the wizard Voldemort most feared is now dead and within a few months he would take over the school and the Ministry? This thought hit me the other day as I was rereading this chapter I had written, and I have answered it in Kiara's story. I don't know if it was because they were overcome with grief by Dumbledore's death, or it was a flaw on JKR's part, but it just hit me as odd. Something for you all to think about, anyway. And now, on to this chapter. Remember, this story finishes next week, and make sure you have tissues with you.**

 **Chapter 33**

 **The Phoenix Lament - Part 2**

 **KIARA**

"Now?" said Professor Darbus, surprised. "Are you sure this can't wait until - ?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am," said Sian, her voice stronger. "My mother's body cannot be moved until after the ritual, which the Oracle must perform, and he will not leave until it is done."

"Very well," said Professor Darbus. "Is there anything I should do?"

"Yes," said Sian, "speak to the school and tell them all, staff and students, that they should all head to the foot of the Astronomy Tower. This is something they should all see."

Professor Darbus nodded and hurried out of the hospital wing. Sian then turned to Ferdinand and said, "You should stay here."

"What? No, I'll come with - "

"No," Sian cut across him gently. "You are needed here." She looked down at Sam. "She needs you, I see that now. Besides, there will be the - the funeral."

"Thank you," Ferdinand said gratefully to Sian, who shot him a small smile.

Just then we heard Professor Darbus' voice, magically magnified, saying that all staff and students should all proceed outside to the foot of the Astronomy Tower. Sian looked at us and said, "Let's do this." She then walked over to her father who put his arm around her, and together they led the way out of the hospital wing, the rest of us, minus Ferdinand, following them out of the hospital wing and all the way outside to the foot of the Astronomy Tower.

When we got outside, we heard Kenna's song of mourning echoing louder than in the castle. Students and staff alike were joining us, most of them looking confused as to why they had been called out of bed again, but they kept walking to the Astronomy Tower nonetheless. When we got there we saw stood over Crighton's body a man who was below average height, but had a strong, powerful aura about him. He wore a light green robe and, as I drew nearer, I saw that he was completely bald as Mina had said; the only facial hair he had were on his eyebrows and his soul-patch, both were grey. He had hazel eyes and on one side of his bald head, where his sideburns should be, was a tattoo of a small circle surrounded by a holder of sorts, which I presume represented the Heart of Kandrakar. When we had all gathered close enough to hear him, the Oracle spoke in a wise, strong voice that emitted power and demanded respect.

"Students and teachers of Dragon Mort, this is my first visit to Earth. I have long wished to visit this school, but I only wish that it were under happier circumstances." His eyes then fell upon Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida, and he cast them a sad smile. "My dear Guardians." He then made his right hand into a fist, put it over his heart, bowed and said to them, "Blessed be, Guardians."

Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida placed their right fists over their hearts, bowed and chanted, "Blessed be, Oracle." The Oracle then nodded and he and the girls rose.

"The condolences of myself and the Council of Kandrakar go out to you and your family, Guardians, especially to you, Sian." Sian bowed her head sadly; the Oracle walked to her and placed his forehead to hers. When he pulled back sadly, he looked directly into Sian's eyes and said, "I know that this is difficult for you, Sian, but you understand why we have to do this, don't you?" Sian nodded her head quickly. The Oracle gave a curt nod. "Good. Girls," he spoke to them all, "please power up and take your positions; Sian, you stand just behind your mother's head."

Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida rolled up the sleeves of their left arms and pressed a small rune, each one different: there were five bright flashes of light that lasted only for a second, and when the lights died away, the girls were revealed in their Guardian clothes. Once transformed, they took their positions around Crighton: Sian at her head, Beth at her feet, Chrissie with her back to the Tower, Kestrel opposite Chrissie and Merida in the centre with the Oracle, who handed each Guardian a candle in their element's colour: yellow for Air, red for Fire, blue for Water, green for Earth and purple for Spirit. The Oracle then took out of a pocket of his robes a plain candle, which he asked Beth to light, and then picked up a smudge stick that was beside Crighton, which he also got Beth to light, which emitted scents of white sage and lavender from it, and then made his way over to Kestrel, waving the smudge stick as he went.

When he got to Kestrel, the Oracle spoke loudly and clearly, so that none of us missed a word he said.

"Air, to blow away the evil that has struck Susan down. Please join our circle."

The Oracle pressed his candle to Kestrel's at once, and just like at Georgia's ceremony, a strong breeze swept through the area. The Oracle then proceeded to Beth.

"Fire, to burn away the hatred with which the curse was struck. Please join our circle."

The Oracle made to touch Beth's candle with his, but before he could do so, the candle was burning brightly, and the feel of a warm, roaring fire surrounded us. The Oracle then turned to Chrissie.

"Water, to extinguish the evil that has happened here. Please join our circle."

The Oracle lit Chrissie's candle, and we all felt and heard the powerful rushing of water, as though from a river, which hit me with such force that it took my breath away. The Oracle then moved on to Sian, waving the smudge stick still as he walked.

"Earth, to heal the soul and soothe it. Please join our circle."

The Oracle lit Sian's candle, and I felt, once again, as though I was standing in a lavender field, inhaling the soothing scent and I felt like I could feel the lavender around me. My attention was then drawn back to the Oracle, who joined Merida in the centre again.

"Spirit, which guides and protects us all, and to give us strength when we need it most. Please join our circle."

Merida's candle was lit, and many people gasped as the feeling of Spirit hit us, and I felt mine strengthen. I then noticed a silver line run through the circle, connecting the girls. The Oracle then placed his candle, still lit, down beside Crighton, stood up straight and walked around her, waving the smudge stick as he went.

"Many of you do not know this," the Oracle said in his strong, powerful voice, "but I know your Headmistress here very well. You see, she was once a Guardian, much like her daughters. She was the Earth Guardian, and a good one. She was a strong leader, a fierce protector and opponent, a good friend and a strong woman, who always knew when to fight back and when to retreat - qualities which live on in one of her children." The Oracle didn't say who the child was, nor did he need to, for it was pretty obvious who he was talking about.

"Susan Crighton," the Oracle continued, "was a woman who, though she had made mistakes, tried her best to make up for them. Her gentle wit and natural charm and grace drew people to her. Her wisdom guided her friends through their difficult times, and they were fools if they ignored her guidance. But more than anything, Susan's great care and love was always shown to two different things: this school and her family ... and I think she is ready now. So Susan, take my hand."

And just like Crighton had done with Georgia, the Oracle stretched out his hand, and Crighton's spirit rose from her body, looking as beautiful as ever. Once she had stood at full height, she smiled around at all of us. I looked at Sian, whose eyes were focused on her mother, and she looked as though she was struggling not to cry once again, and my heart went out to her. But next second, my attention was back on Crighton, who had started talking, her voice ghostly but clear.

"My dear students, teachers, friends and family, I know that this is a sad time, but do not feel too sorry for me; we all have a time, and mine is now, which I was aware of and have been preparing for quite some time. I am ready to take on what happens next and am not afraid, for I will be protected and cared for by the Oracle and Kandrakar, never fear. But I would like to say goodbye to a few people here first, if I may?"

She turned to the Oracle, who nodded, and his eyes flashed a strange purple colour for a moment, and Crighton's spirit became a little stronger. She then took slow yet graceful steps out of the circle and approached Mr Dawson first, kissing him firmly on lips, which he responded to enthusiastically. When she broke the kiss, Crighton said to him, "Take care of our family. Be strong for them and do not let them down."

"I will," said Mr Dawson. Crighton smiled at him and stroked his cheek gently, before she moved on to Professor Darbus, and the two women hugged like sisters.

"Oh, Deidre," Crighton said, once she had pulled back, "I have no trouble in asking that you and the staff will look after the students when I am gone, won't you?"

"Of course, Susan," Professor Darbus choked. "We would be terrible teachers if we didn't, wouldn't we?"

Crighton smiled at her gratefully before she moved on to her sons, hugging each of them and kissing them gently. I thought Crighton would then move back into the circle, but I was wrong, for she moved around, saying a few words to a few people, and hugging a few too, like Mina and my parents, giving my father a rather long hug, who hugged her like he would a mother, before she got to me, gazing at me gently.

"Oh, Kiara," she said, "you have lost so much, and I know that losing me does not make what you will have to do any easier, but know this: I will always be watching you, all right?"

I nodded. Crighton then hugged me, and I returned the hug without question. Crighton then whispered urgently in my ear, "Remember everything I told you. Do not tell anyone apart from Chris, Sian and Chrissie. Be good, be brave and never give up, can you do that for me?"

"I will," I answered at once. Crighton then let me go and moved back into the circle, where she hugged and kissed each of her daughter's cheeks in turn, saying a few words to them, reaching Sian at last. As soon as Crighton looked at Sian, Sian could not stop the tears that fell down her cheeks. Crighton wiped them away with her hands and held her daughter's face gently, looking at her softly.

"Oh, _magi_ ," she said, smiling slightly. "Don't cry. I'll be all right."

"Don't leave me," Sian sobbed, looking like a lost child once more, and my heart broke for her again.

"I never will," said Crighton. "I will always be with you, and I will always love you."

"And I you, M-Mother," Sian cried, and mother and daughter hugged for the last time. I couldn't stop the tears that fell down my own cheeks, and by the sounds of the sniffling around me, I wasn't the only one.

When they let go of each other, Crighton placed one last, lingering kiss on Sian's forehead before she moved back to the Oracle, who was smiling at her.

"Are you ready yet, Susan?"

"Almost," said Crighton. "I just have one last thing to say to these people before I go."

The Oracle nodded and Crighton turned to face us, her expression suddenly serious, and when she spoke her tone was firm.

"There are difficult times ahead now that I am no longer part of this world, this I know, but know that I am not the last form of hope you have." Crighton looked at me. "As long as you all stand by Kiara, are thinking of her and fighting for her, then she will not give up on you, and she will fight for you as you will fight for her, for every day that you are here, breathing, alive, is another day to keep fighting, to keep pushing away the evil that will attempt to thwart and control you, to keep resisting until evil is no more. So never give up, never give in, never surrender."

Crighton said this with such ferocity that I think we were all rallied by her words. Crighton then turned to the Oracle and said, "I am ready now."

The Oracle then nodded and turned to Kestrel, who nodded at him and began the spell:

 _"Some Air to help you release the strain - "_

 _"Some Fire to help strengthen you - "_

 _"Some Water to help wash away your pain - "_

 _"Some Earth to help support you - "_

 _"And Spirit to guide and complete you."_

As each element was added, a strong, invisible gush of each element surrounded Crighton, and when the spell ended, Crighton's robes (the same as she wore when she was alive) had changed into the light green ones that the Oracle wore. The Oracle then took Crighton's hand and said, "I wish you well on your journey. Merry meet, merry part and merry meet again."

"Merry meet, merry part and merry meet again," the Guardians chanted. They then put down their candles at their feet and when they straightened up, they raised their arms as the Oracle let Crighton go, and she was off to the heavens, the elements helping her on her journey.

As Crighton travelled swiftly upwards, she spread her arms out wide, brought them down and swooped them over her body; there was a flash of light and where Crighton's body had been, a phoenix now hovered, emitting an emerald aura, which gave a soft musical cry before proceeding up into the light that had just started to emerge; once the phoenix had disappeared into the light, the light then spread widely before it closed, and when it did we saw that all traces of the Death Trail had been extinguished.

The Oracle then closed the circle, thanking the elements in reverse order. Once done, the Guardians blew out their candles and powered down. The Oracle then surveyed us all.

"Well, my work here is done," the Oracle said, as a white mist that came from his lit candle began to surround him. "I must return to Kandrakar. Blessed be, Guardians," he said, putting his right fist over his heart again.

"Blessed be, Oracle," the Guardians chanted, repeating the action. The Oracle then bid them rise, and smiled once more at them as he closed his eyes and the mist surrounded him entirely, obscuring his frame, and a second later the mist had vanished, leaving no trace of his himself or his candle behind.

I looked around and saw that most people were wiping away tears. I looked at Sian, who was staring at the shell of her mother on the ground, her arms around herself. I wanted to go and say something to her, but I didn't know what. Fortunately, Professor Darbus chose that moment to speak.

"Heads of Houses, please lead your students back to bed - Professor Beadu, you can stand in for Snake-Eyes - then I want to see you and Mina in the Head's study." She then came over to me and said, "Kiara, I would like you, Matt and Sian to come with me, please."

Mr Dawson, who was stood close by me, hurried over to Sian. I muttered, "See you in a bit," to Chris who was stood beside me, and hugged both of my parents separately, and then I followed Professor Darbus back to the castle. Mr Dawson had his arm wrapped around Sian, who looked back at her siblings and told them, "Open the letters that Ma gave you." She then smiled swiftly at her siblings, before she turned back around, and she and her father followed Professor Darbus and I, making our way through the crowd of students and teachers alike who were wall proceeding into the castle, the phoenix song still going.

In silence we approached the glass elevator, which Professor Darbus put four tokens in, and after we were all inside and Professor Darbus had pressed the Head's study button, the elevator sped off at once. Once the elevator had stopped we all stepped out and entered the circular office. I did not know what I had expected: that the room would be draped in black, perhaps. In fact, it looked almost as it had done when Crighton and I had left it mere hours previously: the silver instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle-legged tables, Lion-Heart's sword stood in its glass case gleaming in the moonlight, the Sorting Chest on a shelf behind the desk. But Kenna's perch stood empty; she was still crying her lament to the grounds, and it was then that I noticed that the photographs of Crighton's family were no longer on the desk, and the drawings Crighton's children had sent to her growing up had all been taken down - except one: the first one Sian had ever sent to her mother that looked like 'a pig riding a donkey' as her youngest brother, Max, had once said. Anyhoo, this sight made Sian cry harder - well, that, and the new portrait that joined the ranks of dead headmasters and mistresses of Dragon Mort ... Crighton was slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, looking peaceful and untroubled. Mr Dawson held Sian tighter, rubbing her back gently as his daughter sobbed into his chest.

After glancing once at this portrait, Professor Darbus made an odd movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at me, her face taut and lined.

"Kiara," she said, "I would like to know what you and Professor Crighton were doing this evening when you left the school."

"I can't tell you that, Professor," I said. I had expected the question and I had my answer ready. It had been here, in this very room, that Crighton had told me that I was to confide the contents of our lessons to nobody but Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

"Kiara, it might be important," said Professor Darbus.

"It is," I said, "very, but she didn't want me to tell anyone."

Professor Darbus glared at me.

"Pride-Lander" (I registered the renewed use of my surname) "in the light of Professor Crighton's death, I think you must see that the situation has changed somewhat - "

"I don't think so," I said, shrugging. "Professor Crighton never told me to stop following her orders if she died."

"But - "

"There's one thing you should know before the Ministry gets here, though. Sir Smoothster's under the Imperius Curse, he was helping Malty and the Love Destroyers, that's how the necklace and the poisoned mead - "

"Smoothster?" said Professor Darbus incredulously, but before she could go on, there was a knock on the door behind us and Professors Spud, Winds and Beadu traipsed into the room, followed by Mina, who was still weeping copiously, her huge frame trembling with grief.

"Tiphrom!" ejaculated Beadu, who looked the most shaken, pale and sweating. "Triphorm! I taught her! I knew her!"

But before any of us could respond to this, a sharp voice spoke from high on the wall: a sallow-faced witch with a short black fringe had just walked back into her empty canvas.

"Deidre, the Ministry will be here within seconds, she has just Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Evelyn," said Professor Darbus, and she turned quickly to her teachers.

"I want to talk about what happens to Dragon Mort before she gets here," she said quickly. "Personally, I am not convinced that the school should reopen next year. The death of the Headmistress at the hands of one of our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Dragon Mort's history. It is horrible."

"You mat not have a choice in the matter, ma'am," said a quiet voice. We all turned to look at Sian, who had indeed spoken, who had dried her eyes and was no longer leaning against her father, but was trying to stand as tall and proud as always.

"What do you mean, Sian?" Professor Darbus asked, looking at her curiously.

"What I mean, ma'am," said Sian, her voice growing stronger with every word, "is that my mother's death is just the start. With my mother gone, Zira is now going to be looking at gaining control of the Ministry, and then the school. You mark my words, come the end of this summer, these things will happen. Besides, I know my mother, she will not have wanted this school to close. That's why she asked you to protect the students, ma'am," Sian added, turning to Professor Darbus, "because she knew her death was coming, she knew Zira's followers will take over the school and she knew that she could put her trust in the teachers - the _original_ teachers - of this school, the good, the brilliant and the best!"

The teachers all bore looks of shock and horror as the true meaning of Crighton's words set in upon them. After a moment or two, Beadu broke the silence.

"You can't mean that, Miss Dawson? The very thought of - "

"I know it's hard to hear, ma'am," said Sian, turning her head sharply to face Beadu, "and I know you're scared, who isn't? But it's time to put your own feelings aside for a moment and think about the students, because I bet that next year a lot of them are going to come to you, tears streaming down their faces because of what has happened to them. And I know that you're afraid of Zira, ma'am. Aren't we all? But chances are, you won't see her, because she'll have people working for her here and at the Ministry doing all her dirty work for her, while she's off doing God knows what! So you have to decide now, ma'am, whether you want to be a child or a leader!"

Sian was looking at Beadu fiercely, and her words were so strong, so true, that I felt my respect for her rise; and I wasn't the only one who felt that way.

"What Sian says is true," said Professor Darbus, looking at Sian with a new kind of respect. "The students' welfare must come first in this case, and with that being said, I will stay here and do what I can to protect our students from those monsters! What say you?" she asked her teachers.

"I'll stay," said Spud at once.

"As will I!" said Winds.

Darbus, Spud and Winds all turned at once to Beadu, who looked unsure for a moment, then nodded.

Professor Darbus nodded, then turned to face Mina. "Mina, you haven't said anything. What about you, are you planning on staying next year, whatever happens?"

Mina, who had been weeping silently into her large spotted handkerchief throughout this conversation, now raised her puffy red eyes and croaked, "I dunno, Professor ... that's fer the Headmistress ter decide ... "

"Professor Crighton always valued your views," said Professor Darbus kindly, "and so do I, and I and the rest of the staff here will support your decision."

"Well, I'm stayin'," said Mina, fat tears still leaking out of the corners of her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. "It's me home, it's bin me home since I was thirteen. An' if there's kids who wan' me ter teach 'em, I'll do it. But ... I dunno ... Dragon Mort without Crighton ..."

She gulped and disappeared behind her handkerchief once more, and there was silence.

"Very well," said Professor Darbus, glancing out of the window at the grounds, checking to see whether the Minister was approaching. "Now, I believe the right thing to do would be to consult the governors, wouldn't you agree, Sian?"

"Of course, ma'am," said Sian at once. "You should go on as normally as possible. But would you mind not telling them anything about what I've told you about Zira?"

"Of course, Sian," said Professor Darbus. "You have my confidence."

"I trust you," said Sian. Student and teacher then shared a brief smile, then Professor Darbus turned back to her teachers once more.

"Now, as to getting the students home ... there is an argument for doing it sooner rather than later. We could arrange for the Dragon Mort submarines to come tomorrow if necessary - "

"What about Crighton's funeral?" I said, speaking at last, and I wasn't the only one who thought this; Mr Dawson and Sian both looked shocked that Professor Darbus didn't take this into account, either.

"Well ..." said Professor Darbus, losing a little of her briskness as her voice shook, "I - I know that it was Crighton's last wish to be laid to rest here, at Dragon Mort - "

"Then that's what'll happen, isn't it?" I said fiercely.

"If the Ministry thinks it appropriate, and her family approves," said Professor Darbus.

"We do," said Sian. Everyone looked at her.

"Are you sure, Sian?" said Professor Darbus, watching her closely.

"I knew my mother, ma'am," Sian said, "and I know that she would want her final resting place to be here. Yes, she has the Manor, but that was not her home; to myself, my father and my siblings it is, but not to my mother. To her, it was always a respite place, and I know that because the only times I ever saw her as a child were the Christmas and summer holidays, and the first few years of our childhoods when Lord Voldemort was still at large when she stayed with us all the time. Anyway, her _true_ home was here, ma'am, always, and we all know that she was more than just a mother, she was the headmistress of this school, so therefore the staff and students should say goodbye to the greatest headmistress this school has ever had, too, and not just my family."

"Well said," said Professor Winds after a few moments. "Well said indeed! It is not just the family who have the right to say goodbye to our dear Professor Crighton. We can arrange transport home afterwards."

"Seconded," barked Spud.

"I suppose ... yes ..." said Beadu in a rather agitated voice, while Mina let out a strangled sob of assent.

"She's coming," said Professor Darbus suddenly, gazing down into the grounds. "The Minister ... and by the looks of it, she's brought a delegation ..."

"Can I leave, Professor?" I said at once.

I had no desire at all to see, or be interrogated by, Rowena Scrimwazz that night.

"You may," said Professor Darbus, "and quickly."

She strode towards the door and held it open for me. I sped down the staircase and off along the deserted corridor; I had left my Invisibility Cloak at the top of the Astronomy Tower, but it did not matter; there was nobody in the corridors to see me pass, not even Match, Mrs Robbs or Weeves. I did not meet another soul until I reached the passage leading to the Lion-Heart common room.

"Is it true?" whispered the Fat Lord as I approached him. "Is it really true? Crighton - dead?"

"Yes," I said.

He bowed his head and, without waiting for the password, swung forwards to admit me.

As I had suspected it would be, the common room was jam-packed. The room fell silent as I climbed through the portrait hole. I didn't see Beth, Kestrel or Merida anywhere: this meant that they were in the dormitory with Chrissie. Without speaking to anybody, without making eye-contact at all, I walked straight across the room and climbed the stairs to the dormitories.

When I reached our dormitory, I saw Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida sitting on the latter's bed, each of them holding a letter and crying. They looked up when they saw me, and Chrissie got up from the bed and we went to her bed and sat down on it. For a while, we were both silent, neither of us knowing what to say, as the whispers from the other three reached our years.

"Are you OK?" I asked at last.

"I dunno," said Chrissie, shrugging. "I mean, I was never as close to Ma as you or Sian were, Kiara, but ... it does hurt a bit, you know?"

I nodded, understanding what she meant. I then looked down at the letter in her hand.

"What's that?"

"A letter that Ma wrote to me before she died," said Chrissie. "She wrote one for each of us. I never knew how much Ma noticed until I read this." She handed it to me. "You can read it if you want to. I don't mind."

But I pushed the letter back. "No, Chrissie. It's private and personal to you, and should be kept that way." Chrissie looked at me and smiled and we were silent again.

"They're talking about closing the school," I said.

"Not that surprising, is it, after what happened?" said Chrissie. I didn't say anything in answer to this.

A pause.

"So?" said Chrissie, turning to me and lowering her voice so that her sisters wouldn't hear. "Did you find one? Did you get it? A - a Horcrux?"

I shook my head. All that had taken place around that red lake seemed like an old nightmare now; had it really happened, and only hours ago?

"You didn't get it?" said Chrissie, looking crestfallen. "It wasn't there?"

"No," I said. "Someone had already taken it and left a fake in its place."

"Already _taken_ \- ?"

Wordlessly, I pulled the fake locket from my pocket, opened it and passed it to Chrissie. The full story could wait ... it did not matter tonight ... nothing mattered except the end, the end of our pointless adventure, the end of Crighton's life ...

"O.B.W.," whispered Chrissie, "but who was that?"

"Dunno," I said, putting my arm around Chrissie and looking out of the window at the dark grounds. I felt no curiosity at all about O.B.W.: I doubted in that moment that I would ever feel curious again. As I sat there, holding my best friend, I became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent, and from the gasps of the others, I wasn't the only one who had noticed. Kenna had stopped singing.

And I knew, without knowing how I knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Dragon Mort for good, just as Crighton had left the school, had left the world ... had left me - but more importantly, had left Sian.


	34. Chapter 34

**AN 1: So, here we are, at possibly the longest chapter in this whole book. Now, I do not own Harry Potter or Lion King, nor do I have the rights to the song _Supermarket Flowers_ by Ed Sheeran, which I know is slightly older than the year in which these events take place, but as soon as I heard this song I knew it had to be here. You will have noticed that I have changed some of the lyrics to match what is going on to make sense, and please remember that the Oracle is God and that even though Sian has siblings, she is the only one singing this song because she was closer to her mother than the rest of her siblings were. So, enjoy this chapter. **

**Chapter 34**

 **The White Tomb**

 **KIARA**

All lessons were suspended, all examinations were postponed. Some students were hurried away from Dragon Mort by their parents over the next couple of days - Perry Party was gone before breakfast on the morning following Crighton's death and Zhi Smith was escorted from the castle by her haughty-looking father. Zara Finn, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany her father home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which was resolved when he agreed that she could remain for the funeral. He had difficulty finding a bed in Dragsmeade; Zara told Chrissie and I, for wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Crighton.

The day after Crighton had died, Grandmother Sarabi arrived with Joey and his family in their car, which he had parked on the outskirts of Dragsmeade village, and the four of them walked together to the school, where they were let in at once. My parents and I went to greet them, and in Grandmother Sarabi's arms I saw a little bundle of blankets, with a small tuft of tawny hair poking out. I stood there, not knowing what to do, as Grandmother Sarabi passed Kion into my mother's arms, who looked at me and said, "Kiara, come and meet your brother."

I went over to them slowly, and looked down into the blanket, and I was faced with a face that I had seen only in photographs: a cute baby face with dark, peachy skin, a long nose, wide mouth, and his almond-shaped eyes which were small and a light amber colour, and as soon as he saw me he looked at me curiously, then he started giggling and began squirming in his blanket as he tried to remove his arms so that he could reach me.

I laughed along with my parents and Grandmother Sarabi. I looked at my parents and asked, "Can I hold him?" They nodded at once and I held out my arms, into which Mum placed him in gently. I held him in my arms, and he smiled a toothless smile, reaching up a small, pudgy hand to touch my cheek. I smiled and laughed a little, kissing him gently on the forehead.

"Hi, Kion," I said, tears of joy spilling down my cheeks, "I'm your sister, Kiara, and I'm going to be the best sister I can be for you, and make sure that you are well looked after, no matter what happens to our parents, that I can assure you."

This arrival caused quite a commotion as many people came to look at what was going on. I looked at my parents, who both were happy to let Kion be introduced to the world, so I said, "Everyone, meet my brother, Kion." At that, those closest gathered round to look at him, including some teachers, who were all greeted with one glimpse of happiness in a great time of sadness.

Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the Forest. I watched from a window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, black-haired man descended the carriage steps and threw himself into the waiting Mina's arms. Meanwhile a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister for Magic herself and Mr Dawson, was being accommodated within the castle. I was diligently avoiding contact with any of them (apart from Mr Dawson, of course, with whom I always had a second to spare for); I was sure that, sooner or later, I would be asked again to account for Crighton's last excursion from Dragon Mort.

Chris, Chrissie and I were spending all of our time together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock us; I could imagine how it would have been if Crighton had not died, and we had had this time together at the very end of the year, with the pressure of homework lifted ... and hour by hour, I put off saying the think I knew I must say, doing what I knew it was right to do, because it was too hard to forgo my best source of comfort. There were times when Chris and I would look at each other, and I was sure he knew what I was thinking, but he didn't say anything, for which I was grateful.

Now, I know what you are all thinking, my dear readers: where is Sian in all of this? Well ... Chris, Chrissie and I rarely saw her in those days, because she was helping her father with the funeral arrangements, and after that we don't know where she went, because she stayed away from us for hours at a time. The only times we did see her were at meal times, where she ate what she could, even though the portions she did have were small, and in the common room in the evenings, where she would sit apart from the rest of us, doing nothing, just staring out of a window, ignoring the looks of pity sent her way, refusing company, even mine, Chris and Chrissie's! Sian's behaviour concerned us and the rest of her siblings, and it wasn't hard to imagine why.

Sian never smiled in those days: a saddened, dejected look had settled itself upon her features, never moving. If she had cried, I'm sure she would have, but her tears were saved for the night. I knew this because, the night after Crighton had died, I woke up and heard the sounds of soft sobbing coming from Sian's bed. I didn't go over to her, neither did any of her sisters, for we all knew that Sian wouldn't want us to see her in that state, but that didn't stop my heart breaking for her. I suspected that her tears were due to her nightmares, for I always saw that she had bags under her eyes the next morning, which made me think that she wasn't sleeping well. Another alarming thing that Sian did was that she had started tying her hair back, and instead of arranging it in the curls so like her mother's, Sian let it stay in its natural state, which was wavy, and whenever the wind would blow her hair in her face, or a stray lock would fall accidently, Sian would always brush it back quickly, wanting nothing to touch her face. She also walked slower and instead of walking tall and proud, her shoulders were slumped and she would always look at the ground, ignoring everyone around her.

Sian never spoke to us during those days, which I know you've all figured out, but the only time she spoke to me on her own was the day after her mother died, because she wanted to know what had happened to her mother. I understood why Sian would ask this, but it was too soon for her to know; she wasn't coping with her mother's death and I didn't want to give her nightmares. I told Sian this in the most delicate way possible. I was afraid that she would be angry with me, but to my relief, she seemed to agree. Sian then flashed me a very brief smile and moved away. My heart went out to her again, but I knew that I was doing the right thing; when the time was right, she would know.

Anyhoo, the only other time Chris, Chrissie and I saw Sian was when she would come with us to visit the hospital wing twice a day: Nikita had been discharged, but Sam remained under Matron's care. Her scars were as bad as ever; in truth, she now bore a distinct resemblance to Crazy-Head Grumpy, though thankfully with just her two normal eyes and both legs, but in personality she seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that she now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

" ... so eet ees lucky she is marrying me," said Ferdinand happily, plumping up Sam's pillows, "because ze British overcook their meat, I 'ave always said this."

"I suppose I'm just going to have to aceept that she really is going to marry him," sighed Chris later that evening, the evening before Crighton's funeral, as he, Sian, Chrissie and I sat beside the open window of the Lion-Heart common room, looking out over the twilit grounds.

"He's not that bad," I said. "Ugly, though," I added hastily, as Chris raised his eyebrows, and he let out a reluctant chuckle.

"Well, I suppose if Sian can stand it, I can."

"Anyone else we know died?" Chrissie asked Sian suddenly, who was perusing the _Evening Squabbler_.

Sian winced at the forced toughness in her voice.

"No," she said reprovingly in a voice void of emotion, folding up the newspaper. "They're still looking for Triphorm, but no sign ..."

"Of course there isn't," I said, becoming angry again, as I did every time the subject cropped up. "They won't find Triphorm 'til they find Zira, and seeing as they've never managed to do that in all this time ..."

I huffed in annoyance, shaking my head bitterly. I wanted to find Triphorm and make her pay for what she had done to Crighton, but I would probably be dead before I could raise my wand if I did find Triphorm. I was then brought out of my thoughts by Sian, who leaned forwards towards me with a most Sian-ish look on her face.

"Kiara, I found something out this morning, in the library ..."

"O.B.W.?" I said, sitting up straight.

I did not feel the way I had so often felt before, excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; I simply knew that the task of discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed before I could move a little further along the dark and winding path stretching ahead of me, the path that Crighton and I had set out upon together, and which I now knew I would have to journey alone. There might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Zira could be killed. I kept reciting their names to myself, as if though by listing them I could bring them within reach: "the locket ... the cup ... the snake ... something of Lion-Heart's or Raven-Wings' ... the locket ... the cup ... the snake ... something of Lion-Heart's or Raven-Wings' ..."

This mantra seemed to pulse through my mind as I fell asleep at night, and my dreams were thick with cups, lockets and mysterious objects that I could not quite reach, though Crighton helpfully offered me a rope ladder that turned to snakes the moment I began to climb ...

I had shown Chris and Sian the note inside the locket the morning after Crighton's death, and although she had not immediately recognised the initials as belonging to some obscure wizard about whom she had been reading, this was why she had been rushing off to the library in the afternoons, a little more often than was strictly necessary for somebody who had no homework to do.

"No," she said sadly, "I've been trying, Kiara, but I haven't found anything ... there are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with those initials - Olga Beatrice White ... Owen 'Bloodstain' Winters ... but they don't seem to fit at all. Judging by that note, the person who stole the Horcrux knew Zira, and I can't find a shred of evidence that White or Bloodstain ever had anything to do with her ... no, actually, it's about ... well, Triphorm."

She looked more nervous even saying the name again.

"What about her?" I asked heavily, slumping back in my chair.

"Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Princess business," she said tentatively.

"D'you have to rub it in, Sian? How d'you think I feel about that now?"

"No - no - Kiara, I didn't mean that!" said Sian hastily, looking around to check that we were not being overheard. "It's just that I was right about Eleanor Princess once owning the book. You see ... she was Triphorm's mother!"

"I thought she wasn't much of a looker," said Chris. Sian ignored him.

"I was looking through the rest of the old _Squabbler_ s and there was a tiny announcement about Eleanor Princess marrying a man called Steven Triphorm, and then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth to a - "

" - murderer," I spat.

"Well ... yes," said Sian, wincing at my tone. "So ... I was sort of right. Triphorm must have been proud of being 'half a Princess', you see? Steven Triphorm was a Muggle from what it said in the _Squabbler_."

"Yeah, that fits," I said. "She'd play up the pure-blood side so she could get in with Narissa Malty and the rest of them ... She's just like Zira. One part witch, one part Muggle ... ashamed of her parentage, trying to make herself feared using the Dark Arts, gave herself an impressive name - _Lady_ Zira - the Half-Blood _Princess_ \- how could Crighton have missed - ?"

I broke off, looking out of the window. I could not stop myself dwelling upon Crighton's inexcusable trust in Triphorm ... but as Sian had just inadvertently reminded me, I, Kiara, had been taken in just the same ... in spite of the increased nastiness of those scribbled spells, I had refused to believe ill of the girl who had been so clever, who had helped me so much ...

 _Helped me_ ... it was almost an unendurable thought, now ...

"I still don't get why she didn't turn you in for using that book," said Chrissie. "She must've known where you were getting it all from."

"She knew," I said bitterly. "She knew when I used _Sectumsempra_. She didn't really need Legilimency ... she might even have known before then, with Beadu talking about how brilliant I was at Potions ... Shouldn't have left her old book in the bottom of that cupboard, should she?"

"But why didn't she turn you in?"

"I don't think she wanted to associate herself with that book," said Sian. "I don't think Ma would have liked it very much if she'd known. And even if Triphorm pretended it hadn't been hers, Beadu would have recognised her handwriting at once. Anyway, the book was left in Triphorm's old classroom, and I'll bet Ma knew her mother was called 'Princess'."

"I should've shown the book to Crighton," I said. "All that time she was showing me how Zira was evil even when she was at school, and I had proof Triphorm was, too - "

"'Evil' is a strong word," said Sian quietly.

"You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!"

"I'm trying to say, Kiara, that you're putting too much blame on yourself. I thought the Princess seemed to have a nasty sense of humour, but I would never have guessed she was a potential killer ..."

"None of us could've guessed ... you know," said Chrissie.

Chris sighed deeply. He then turned to Sian and asked her, "Does Max know? Is he coming?"

"Yes," said Sian. "The night Ma died, I asked Professor Darbus to notify Professor McGonagall - the Headmistress of Hogwarts, you know - to ask her to tell Max what happened. This morning, she approached me and told me that Max will be attending the funeral tomorrow, accompanied by someone from Hogwarts and he will be sat apart from the rest of us, so that's happening.

Silence fell between us, each of us lost in our own thoughts, but I was sure that they, like me, were thinking about the following morning, when Crighton's body would be laid to rest. I had never attended a funeral before that point; there had been no body to bury when Pumbaa had died. I did not know what to expect and I was a little worried about what I would see, about how I would feel. I wondered whether Crighton's death would be real to me once the funeral was over. Though I had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm me, there were blank stretches of numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was talking about anything else in the whole castle, I still found it difficult to believe that Crighton had really gone. Admittedly I had not, as I had with Pumbaa, looked desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that Crighton would come back ... I felt in my pocket for the chain of the fake Horcrux, which I now carried with me everywhere, not as a talisman, but as a reminder of what it had cost and what remained still to do.

I rose early to pack the next day; the Dragon Mort Subs would be leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs I found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes (the Dawsons had all been given black ones ordered by their father) and no one seemed very hungry. Professor Darbus had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Mina's chair was deserted too: I thought that perhaps she had not been able to face breakfast; but Triphorm's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rowena Scrimwazz. I avoided the yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; I had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimwazz was looking for me. Among Scrimwazz's entourage I spotted the brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Perdy Fang. Chrissie gave no sign that she was aware of Perdy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted venom; Sian, on the other hand, kept shooting glares at her cousin, shaking her head every time.

Over at the Snake-Eyes table, Keziah was sitting alone, looking sad, and I guessed it wasn't just about Crighton: you see, the day after Crighton died, Keziah came to me and asked me what her cousin's involvement had been in every detail. I told her all that I had heard and observed from that night, and when I was done Keziah said that she hoped that wherever her cousin was now that she was safe. And further down the Snake-Eyes table Crate and Gabber were muttering together. Hulking girls though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malty between them, bossing them around. I had not spared Malty much thought. My animosity was all for Triphorm, but I had not forgotten the fear in Malty's eyes on that Tower top, nor the fact that she had lowered her wand before the other Love Destroyers arrived. I did not believe that Malty would have killed Crighton. I despised Malty still for her infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with my dislike. Where, I wondered, was Malty now, and what was Zira making her do under threat of killing her and her parents?

My thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Chris. Professor Darbus had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "The Dawsons will wait here with their father and follow on last. The rest of you will please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Lion-Hearts, after me."

Everyone except the Dawsons filed out from behind their benches in near silence. I glimpsed Beadu at the head of the Snake-Eyes column, wearing magnificent emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. I had never seen Spud, Head of the Badger-Stripes, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on his hat, and when we reached the Entrance Hall, we found Sir Pincer standing beside Match, both of them in black suits, but Sir Pincer's was crisp and clean, whereas Matchstick's was ancient and reeked of mothballs.

We were heading, as I saw when I stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the river. The warmth of the sun caressed my face as we followed Professor Darbus in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the centre of them: there was a marble table, standing at the front, all chairs facing it, with two lily blossom trees standing on either side of it, and though there was no wind, the leaves seemed to blow in a rhythmic rippling effect. It was a beautiful sight to behold, along with it being a most beautiful summer's day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs (the ones at the front were reserved for the Dawsons): shabby and smart, old and young. Most I did not recognise, but there were a few that I did, including members of the Order of the Centaur: Joey, his wife and child, Kopa, Kara Shackles, Harry and Ginny Potter, Ron and Hermione Weasley, Crazy-Head Grumpy, Todd, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Timon Meers, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, my parents and Grandmother Sarabi, who was holding Kion in her arms as my parents were holding hands, Sam supported by Ferdinand followed by Tanya and Geri, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. Then there was Monsieur Legrand, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on his own, Dizra, the Landlady of the Witching Service, Aubrey Figgs, my Squib neighbour, the bass player from the wizarding group The Jinxters, Sir Waldin, of the robe shop in Brickabon Alley, and some people whom I merely knew by sight, such as the barmaid of the Dragon's Eyes. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

I sat next to my parents at the end of the third row beside the river. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for the three of them, I saw Nikita being helped into the seat next to me by Lincoln, with Keziah bringing up the rear. They alone of all the CA, along with Kestrel, had responded to Chris' summons the night Crighton died, and I knew why: they were the ones who had missed the CA most ... probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting. I cast them each a smile, silently thanking them. They understood and nodded.

Cornelia Sweets sat opposite us, her expression miserable, twirling her plum witch's hat as usual; I next recognised Peter Meter, who, I was infuriated to see, had a notebook clutched in his taloned hand; and then, with a worse jolt of fury, Democritus Umber, an unconvincing expression of grief upon his toadlike face, a little black fez set atop his iron-coloured curls. At the sight of the centaur Fauna, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, he gave a start and hurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.

The staff were seated at last. I could see Scrimwazz looking grave and dignified in the second row with Professor Darbus. I wondered whether Scrimwazz or any of these people were really sorry that Crighton was dead. But then I heard music, strange, otherworldly music, and I forgot my dislike of the Ministry in looking around for the source of it. I was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

"In there," said Lincoln, pointing to the river.

And I saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, reminding me horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language I did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair floating all around them. The music made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As I looked down into the wild faces of the singers I had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Crighton's passing. Then Grandmother Sarabi patted me on the shoulder. I looked up at her. She nodded to the end of the aisle and I looked round.

Mina was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. She was crying quite silently, her face gleaming with tears, and in her arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with silver stars, was what I knew to be Crighton's body. A sharp pain rose in my throat at this sight: for a moment, the strange music and the knowledge that Crighton's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Lincoln, Keziah and Nikita were all crying at the sight.

We could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Mina seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now she retreated down the aisle, blowing her nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalised looks from some, including, I saw, Democritus Umber ... but I knew that Crighton would not have cared. I tried to make a friendly gesture to Mina as she passed, but Mina's eyes were so swollen it was a wonder she could see where she was going. I glanced at the back row to which Mina was heading and I realised what was guiding her, for there, dressed in a jacket and skirt each the size of a small marquee, was the giantess Harlow, her great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Mina sat down next to her half-sister and Harlow patted Mina hard on the head, so that her chair legs sank into the ground. I had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then I saw a figure at the back I had never seen before walking down the aisle, and everyone's attention was drawn to him.

The boy looked at least fourteen or fifteen. He was quite tall, had short, curly brown hair, a long face, freckles and grey-blue eyes, and in one hand he was carrying a lily. As he came closer, I thought that he looked familiar, and as I took in more of him I saw, with a shocking revelation, that he had the same hair and eyes as Mr Dawson. This, I knew, was Max, the youngest Dawson brother.

When he got to the table where his mother's body lay, he seemed to be doing something, but I couldn't see what. As he was doing whatever it was he was doing, the trees on either side of the table started to shed by the bark, their pieces floating in the air, hovering above the table. My attention was then drawn back to Max, who had moved to kiss his mother on her forehead; looking to where he stood, I saw that just over the tip of the purple velvet was the head of the lily, meaning he must have put it in between her arms. Max then moved away from the table, but instead of sitting in the front row, he went to sit at the back next to a witch from Hogwarts.

Then came the rest of the Dawsons, starting with the youngest, each of them holding a lily, and when they reached the table they did what Max had done: placed the lily in their mother's arms and kissed her on the place where her forehead was. before sitting in the front row. Last to come down was Mr Dawson, one arm wrapped around Sian, who had a black veil drawn over her face. As they walked, everyone bowed their heads in respect, knowing how much Crighton had meant to Sian. When they reached the table, everyone raised their heads as Mr Dawson put his lily down first and kissed his wife on the forehead, but Sian took her time: she placed her lily delicately in her mother's arms, making sure the flower was directly over her mother's heart; then, when kissing her mother's forehead, I saw Sian's body trembling as sobs wracked through her. Mr Dawson put his arms around her, but Sian looked up at him firmly, shaking her head. Mr Dawson looked shocked, but took a couple of steps back, understanding whatever it was Sian needed to do. Sian then stood upright and, looking down at her mother's wrapped body, she opened her mouth and began to sing, and as she sung her voice wavered yet somehow she held it together until the end.

 _"I took the greenhouse flowers from the windowsill_  
 _I threw the day-old tea from the cup_  
 _Packed up the photo album that Dad had made_  
 _Memories of a life that's been loved_

 _"Took the pictures we drew down for you_  
 _Poured the old Butterbeer down the sink_  
 _Dad always told me, 'Don't you cry when you're down.'_  
 _But, Ma, there's a tear every time that I blink_

 _"Oh, I'm in pieces. It's tearing me up but I know_  
 _A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved_

 _"So, I'll sing Hallelujah,_  
 _You were an angel in the shape of my mum_  
 _When I fell down you'd be there holding me up_  
 _Spread your wings as you go_  
 _And when God takes you back_  
 _He'll say, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'_

 _"I fluffed the pillows, made the bed, cleared the photos_  
 _Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case_  
 _Dad said he'd Apparate, then put his hand on my cheek_  
 _And wiped a tear from the side of my face_

 _"And I hope that I see the world as you did 'cause I know_  
 _A life with love is a life that's been lived_

 _"So, I'll sing Hallelujah,_  
 _You were an angel in the shape of my mum_  
 _When I fell down you'd be there holding me up_  
 _Spread your wings as you go, when God takes you back_  
 _He'll say, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'_

 _"Hallelujah,_  
 _You were an angel in the shape of my mum_  
 _You got to see the person I have become_  
 _Spread your wings and I know_  
 _That when God took you back, he said, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'"_

As she sung, I couldn't stop the tears that fell from my eyes, as her voice was so beautifully sad that I don't think a single eye was dry, and if any were then they were truly heartless, as everywhere around me I could hear the sounds of people snivelling, with Mina's trumpeting blows into her handkerchief echoing loudly. Once Sian had finished, she almost collapsed over her mother's body, but Mr Dawson was there to hold her upright and guide her to her seat, gently but firmly. As they did so, all the bits of the shredded lily blossoms, roots, bark, leaves and petals alike, flew to the bottom of the table and arranged themselves into one word:

 _MOTHER_

When Mr Dawson and Sian had taken their seats, a little wispy-haired woman in plain black robes had got to her feet and stood in front of Crighton's body. I could not hear what she was saying. Odd words floated back to me. "Nobility of spirit" ... "intellectual contribution" ... "greatness of heart" ... it did not mean very much. It had little to do with Crighton as I had known her. I suddenly remembered Crighton's idea of a few words: "nitwit", "oddment", "blubber" and "tweak", and again, I had to suppress a grin ... what was the matter with me?

There was a soft splashing noise to my left and, looking around Grandmother Sarabi again, I saw that the merpeople had broken the surface to listen, too. I remembered Crighton crouching at the water's edge two years ago, very close to where I now sat, and conversing in Mermish with the Merchieftainess. I wondered where Crighton had learned Mermish. There was so much I had never asked her, so much I should have said ...

And then, without warning, it swept over me, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Crighton was dead, gone ... I clutched the cold locket in my hand so tightly that it hurt, but I could not prevent hot tears spilling from my eyes: I looked away from Grandmother Sarabi, my parents and the others and stared out over the river, towards the Forest, as the little woman in black droned on ... there was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move into the open but I saw them standing quite still, half-hidden in shadow, watching us wizards, their bows hanging at their sides. And I remembered my first nightmarish trip into the Forest, the first time I had ever encountered the thing that was then Zira, and how I had faced her, and how Crighton and I had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Crighton said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated ...

And I saw very clearly as I sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about me had stood in front of me one by one, Pumbaa and Crighton, both determined to protect me, had gone. I knew that I still had Grandmother Sarabi and my parents left, but who knew how long before I lost them, too? They would try and protect me from Zira, this was true, but the loss of my greatest protector - second greatest, really, if you think about it - made me realise something, something that I should have come to terms with long ago: that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt me. There was no waking from my nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that I was safe really, that it was all in my imagination; the greatest of my protectors had died and, despite that my parents and Grandmother Sarabi were there, I felt more alone than I had ever been before.

The little woman in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed her seat. I waited for somebody else to get to their feet; I expected speeches, probably from the Minister, or Mr Dawson or Sian, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Crighton's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: I thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that I saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Crighton's body and the table on which she had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell short of the crowd. It was, I knew, the centaurs' tribute: I saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida then stood and took their circle positions around the tomb. They took off their Element Stones and placed them on the tomb. Sian then pulled a pendant - a magical pink pearl held in place by a wooden holder, attached by a black cord - and let it go; it flew high over the centre of the tomb and a powerful bright light burst from it, engulfing the tomb; then the flower arrangement dispersed, and slowly drifted up to the tomb, where they were swallowed by the white light. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the white light vanished. The pendant flew back to Sian, who hid it under her dress, and she and her sisters removed their Element Stones. When Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida had stood back, we saw that the roots, bark, leaves and petal arrangements had all become part of the tomb, at the sides and on top. On the top of the tomb, Crighton's image within had been magically engraved on top, with each of the elements surrounding her.

Sian, who was still stood at the spot where her mother's head had been, collapsed over it. Mr Dawson stood up quickly and rushed over to her, holding her to him. My heart broke for her yet again as more tears spilled down my cheeks, and I kept looking at her until I noticed that Chris had stood up and was looking at me. When my eyes locked with his, he nodded his head to the water's edge. I nodded and stood up. My parents and Grandmother Sarabi, who had been watching this little interaction between us, stood up to let me pass. I shot them a small smile before I walked past them and followed Chris down to the riverbank.

As I followed Chris, I knew that this was it, but how was I going to break it to him? I had no time to think about this, however, for we had reached the water's edge. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the voice deep inside me screaming, _'DON'T DO IT!'_ , I turned to face Chris, but before I could say anything, he said, "We're breaking up, aren't we?"

I was so surprised that he knew what was going to happen that I blinked rapidly, not knowing what to say. Chris smiled sadly and said, "I know. I've known for these past few days to be honest, and I completely understand why, much as I hate that this has to happen."

I sighed sadly and said, "Chris, these past few months with you ... I can't begin to describe how incredible they've been. I only wish that I could have seen the most amazing, sweet, funny, talented guy that I see now standing in front of me months ago ... then we could have had months ... years, really ... but we can't, and that's because of Zira. You know as well as I do, Chris, how Zira uses people her enemies are close to. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. She'll know, she'll find out. She'll try and get to me through you. Chris, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but - "

"Hey, don't you dare apologise for this," said Chris fiercely, cupping my cheek gently. "You and I are not the ones to blame here; it's that monster out there who's taking over the world who's responsible for our break-up, no one else, you hear me?"

I nodded, as tears spilled down my cheeks. "I love you," I told him.

"I love you, too," Chris said, tears spilling down his own cheeks. He pulled me to him then and I did not resist. "But know this, Kiara. I don't care how long I have to wait for you - months, years, decades - but I will keep waiting for you until Zira is defeated, that I can promise you."

I pulled myself away from him. "But, Chris, so much could happen. You and I could ... or she could win and - "

"I know," said Chris, looking at me with a sad smile. "But you're worth the wait. Besides, I've waited two years to be with you, and seeing what we are like together ... well, I'll gladly wait forever to be with you where nothing and nobody can ever come between us."

Chris then gave me one last, lingering kiss on my forehead, before he turned and walked away to where his family were stood in the middle of a large congregation of people, and as he walked away I started crying harder. I then felt a hand on my chin, turning my face to hers, and through my tears I saw the face of my mother, looking at me gently. I fell into her arms, needing her love, warmth and comfort.

"Oh, honey," said Mum softly, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head, "I'm so sorry."

"He broke up with you?" my father said harshly. Looking up, I saw him glaring after Chris, and I knew that I would have to set the record straight before my father went after him and did something that he would later regret.

So shook my head, dried my eyes and said, "No, it was a mutual agreement - because of Zira," I added, as my parents and Grandmother Sarabi looked confused. "We both don't want to break up, but if Zira finds out about Chris and me ..." I shuddered at the thought of what could happen, "well, it's for the best, anyway."

My parents and Grandmother Sarabi all gave me looks of mingled understanding and sympathy. Then Grandmother Sarabi said, "Oh sweetie, I know it hurts now, but in time you will get better and the pain will hurt less. You may not see it right now, but it _will_ be all right."

Looking around at the faces of the three people close to me, and my baby brother Kion who was asleep in Grandmother Sarabi's arms, I realised that I would be, so I smiled at Grandmother Sarabi, who gently juggled Kion on one arm so as not to wake him up so that she could touch my face. Unfortunately, this moment was ruined by Rowena Scrimwazz, who said loudly, "Ah, there you are, Kiara! I wondered where you got to."

My parents and Grandmother Sarabi turned. Scrimwazz was limping rapidly towards us, leaning on her walking stick.

"I've been hoping to have a word with you ... do you mind if I have a moment alone with your daughter, Simba?"

My father looked like he minded very much, but I said quickly, "It's all right, Daddy. The Minister can speak to me if she wants to."

My father looked at my, saw the firm look on my face, nodded, shot a reproachful glance at the Minister and strode off to crowd around the Dawsons, Mum and Grandmother Sarabi behind him. Scrimwazz then came closer to me and we stood side by side in silence for a while gazing out over the river.

"Kiara, this is a dreadful tragedy," said Scrimwazz quietly at last, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Crighton was a very great witch. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I - "

"What do you want?" I asked flatly.

Scrimwazz looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified her expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

"You are, of course, devastated," she said. "I know that you were very close to Crighton, along with the Eldest Dawson Girl. I think the two of you may have been her favourite ever pupils. The bond between the three of you - "

"What do you want?" I repeated, turning to face Scrimwazz.

Scrimwazz looked at me too, still leaning on her stick and stared at me, her expression shrewd now.

"The word is that you were with her when she left the school the night that she died."

"Whose word?" I said.

"Somebody Stupefied a Love Destroyer on top of the Tower after Crighton died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Kiara."

"Glad to hear it," I said. "Well, where I went with Crighton and what we did is my business. She didn't want people to know."

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimwazz, who seemed to be restraining her irritation with difficulty, "but Crighton is gone, Kiara. She's gone."

"She will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to her," I said, smiling in spite of myself."

"My dear girl ... even Crighton cannot return from the - "

"I am not saying she can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to tell you."

Scrimwazz hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Kiara. And your family. I would be delighted to place a couple of Aurors at your service - "

I laughed.

"Zira wants to destroy me and my family and Aurors won't stop her. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"So," said Scrimwazz, her voice cold now, "the request I made of you at Christmas - "

"What request? Oh yeah ... the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for - "

" - for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimwazz.

I considered her for a moment.

"Released any wrongly accused people yet?"

Scrimwazz turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Aunt Mavuto.

"I see you are - "

"Crighton's woman through and through," I said. "That's right."

Scrimwazz glared at me for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. I could see Perdy and the rest of the Ministry delegation waiting for her, casting nervous glances at the sobbing Mina and Harlow, who were still in their seats. Chris, Sian and Chrissie had finally broken free of the cluster of wizards still surrounding their family and were hurrying towards me, passing Scrimwazz going in the opposite direction; I turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which we had sat in happier times.

"What did Scrimwazz want?" Chris whispered.

"Same as she wanted at Christmas," I shrugged. "Wanted me to give her information on Crighton and be the Ministry's new poster girl."

Chrissie seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then she said loudly to Sian, "Look, let me go back and hit Perdy!"

I looked at Sian properly then: she had pushed her veil away from her face and I could see that her eyes were sad and wet from the fresh tears that had been spilled, but this did not stop her from grabbing her sister's arm and saying firmly, "No."

"It'll make me feel better!"

Chris and I laughed. Even Sian looked like she wanted to laugh in spite of herself; her lips were quivering and she looked on the verge of smiling for the first time in days, but instead she composed herself and said, "I'm sure our mother would not want her children to be violent at her funeral, Chrissie."

Chrissie looked moodily at the ground. Sian smiled at her sympathetically, then her smile faded as she looked up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back," she said softly. "But I can't see it closing, though. Everywhere's the same now. I'd say that Dragon Mort is safer, because there are more wizards to defend the place, but only by a thin margin. What d'you reckon, Kiara?"

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," I said.

Chrissie gaped at me, but Chris and Sian both nodded and Sian said sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?"

"I'm going back to my grandmothers' once more, because Crighton wanted me to," I said. "But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll probably be gone for good."

"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"

"I thought I might go back to the Pride-Lander," I muttered. I had had the idea in my head ever since the night of Crighton's death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit the place where I was born, I like that."

"And then what?" said Chrissie.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" I said, my eyes upon Crighton's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the river. "That's what she wanted me to do, that's why she told me all about them. If Crighton was right - and I'm sure she was - there are still are four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Zira's soul, the bit that's still in her body, and I'm the one who's going to kill her. And if I meet Tiana Triphorm along the way," I added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for her."

There was a long silence. The crowd were mostly gathered around the Dawsons, and the stragglers were giving the monumental figure of Harlow a wide berth as she cuddled Mina, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the water.

"We'll be there, Kiara," said Chrissie.

"What?"

"At your grandmothers' cottage," said Chrissie. "And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going."

"No - " I said quickly; I had not counted on this, I had meant them to understand that I was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone.

"You said to us once before," said Sian quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

"And even though you and I have broken up - " Chris began, but Sian cut across him.

"Broke up? When did this happen?"

"A few minutes ago," said Chris.

"Why?" Chrissie asked, surprised. "You two are so good together, so - "

"Because of Zira," I said. Sian and Chrissie looked at me, so I explained, "If she became aware that Chris and I are together, can you imagine what would happen?"

I saw Sian and Chrissie both think about it, then, slowly, they both nodded their heads. Then Sian said to Chris and I, "We're really sorry, you guys."

Chrissie nodded.

"It's OK," I said sadly. "It's for the best." Then I turned to Chris and said, "Are you sure you want to come with us, Chris, because you know us being together could be - "

"Kiara," Chris interrupted, "just because we're not together does not mean that you don't deserve another friend with you."

I was taken aback, amazed just how much this boy - no, this _man_ \- was willing to do for him. I smiled at him and he smiled back.

"We're with you whatever happens," said Chrissie. "But, mate, you're going to have to come round to ours before we do anything else, even the Pride Lands."

"Why?"

"Ferdinand and Sam's wedding, remember?"

I looked at her, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible yet wonderful to me.

"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," I said finally.

My hand closed around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path I saw stretching ahead of myself, in spite of the final meeting with Zira I knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, I felt my heart lift at the thought that there was till one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Chris, Sian, Chrissie and my family.

And so, readers, that is my sixth book complete. This is not the end of the story, so this is not goodbye. It is merely ...

 _Farewell._

 **AN 2: So, that's it. This book is finished. I will be back next week with the first chapter of the seventh book, and there will be a slight change in how I am going to format the final book, one which I have been thinking of for quite a while and one which has only come to me in the last year or so, but more on that next week. I am just so happy that I can press the complete button on this book at last and I can put it to bed now. Oh, and if any of you want to leave a review on the past few chapters, bearing in mind that I will ignore all negative comments against the series, then you may do so. If not, then I won't mind. See you next week.**


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